"Sofia?" Raymond said as he stood from behind his desk, surprise flickering across his features. But it wasn't the cool, calculating man she'd seen at board meetings. It wasn't the titan of industry, or the man who shaped empires.
It was someone gentler.
Someone who looked at her not with curiosity, but with something closer to recognition.
"I didn't expect to see you," he said, stepping around the desk. "But I'm glad you're here."
There was something in his tone. In the way he walked toward her. Something paternal.
"Come in. Please," he said, gesturing to the leather armchair across from him.
She didn't hesitate.
"I'm fine," she lied, the moment he sat down. "I just needed someone to talk to."
But Raymond Thornvale had lived long enough to hear what people didn't say.
His gaze rested on her gently, like he knew better than to press, and that quiet understanding made her walls crumble in the most terrifying way.
And then—she started to speak.
