That morning, the New York sky was grey.

The cold air bit to the bone, as if mirroring the chaos in Hunter’s head. He sat alone in the headquarters of his company, staring at his laptop screen, watching the video Amara had given him on repeat. Every second of that footage felt like a nail being hammered into the coffin of his reputation. He knew—if the video went public, his career and name would be utterly destroyed.

A soft knock came at the door. Hunter instinctively shut his laptop.

“Come in.”

Shopia entered gracefully. Her appearance, as always, was flawless—an ivory white blazer, her hair tied back elegantly, and the...