Chapter 9

• The tense brunch concluded in a suffocating silence. The food tasted like dry ash under Joaquin’s unrelenting gaze, and the moment he pushed his plate aside, the heavy atmosphere turned downright hostile. He stood up, towering over me like an insurmountable shadow.
• “My study. Ten minutes,” he commanded smoothly, not waiting for a response before turning on his heel and exiting the grand dining room.
• I sat there for a full minute, my knuckles turning white against the edge of the mahogany table. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I finally climbed the winding grand staircase toward the executive wing of the mansion. My mind was a chaotic, toxic storm.