Three days after Elizabeth's successful surgery, I sat at my desk reviewing quarterly projections when my assistant's voice crackled through the intercom.

"Ms. Campbell? Mr. Walton is here to see you."

My heart did that stupid little flutter thing it always did when Michael was mentioned. I smoothed my blouse, annoyed at myself for caring.

"Send him in," I said, closing the spreadsheet on my laptop.

Michael strode through the door of my office like he owned the place—an old habit from his billionaire upbringing that still irritated me. But there was something different about him today. A nervousness behind his confidence.

"Aria," he nodded, his eyes taking in my...