Emily’s POV

Sunday morning arrived with an unsettling stillness that hung over the penthouse like thick smoke.

I stood in front of the vanity mirror in my bedroom, adjusting the collar of a high-necked silk blouse—specifically chosen to hide the dark, bruised marks Daniel had left on my collarbones.

In the reflection, the bedroom door swung open. Daniel stepped into the frame, fully dressed in a tailored charcoal suit jacket and crisp white shirt, looking every bit the cold, invincible corporate billionaire he presented to the outside world. But the dark circles under his silver-gray eyes gave him away.

He didn't move to touch me. He just stood there, leaning...