ROOSEVELT’S POV

The folder slipped from my shaking fingers.

It hit the floor with a loud smack, the blueprints scattered across it.

I didn't bend down to pick them up. I stumbled backward until my shoulder hit the glass of the office door. I struggled to breathe. I couldn't get enough air into my lungs.

Zyran stayed perfectly still, hands casually tucked in his pockets. His dark eyes followed my every movement as I panicked.

"There is no daughter," I said, my voice quivering. I pressed my hands flat against the glass behind me. "I told you, she belongs to Isabella."

Zyran slowly drew his hands from his pockets. He...