At that moment, Emma's stomach twisted.
A deep sense of dread had already started brewing inside her, but now it began to rise fast—like a storm building behind her chest. She watched them closely. The way Kelvin folded his sleeves. The way Tomiwa leaned forward. The way Desmond's jaw ticked with barely contained rage.
Their pride wasn't just bruised—it was shattered. And men like them, when they couldn't win with words or power, would always try to win with numbers.
They're going to gang up on him.
They're really going to do it…
Emma's throat tightened. Zane stood firm, confident as ever, but she could see it now—he was alone in a room filled with men whose pride had been dragged through the dirt. And prideful men were dangerous.
Her mind raced.
She didn't want this. Not here. Not now. And certainly not because of her.
