Draven.
She hesitated.
I saw it—the flicker of resistance in her shoulders before Dennis whispered something that made her step down from the car.
Dennis lingered beside the open door, likely giving her some last encouragement, but my eyes never left Meredith. She walked toward me slowly, chin lifted, not a shred of apology on her face.
Unbelievable.
Even after vanishing without a word, after sending the entire estate into an uproar of panic—this woman returned looking like she had just been out picking flowers.
Her calm burned hotter than any insult.
When she stopped in front of me, I didn't waste a second.
"On whose permission did you leave these grounds?" I asked, voice low but sharp enough to pierce bone.
Meredith's gaze narrowed. "Do I need your permission now to move about?"
I breathed through my nose once, then twice. She didn't even understand what she had done wrong. She didn't know she had just undermined everything—my position, my authority, my peace of mind.
