CHAPTER 13

The morning broke sharp and cold, with steel-gray clouds pressing low over the skyline. Ethan stood in the center of his office, phone clenched in his hand, the memory of Fiona's uninvited arrival still bitter on his tongue. He dialed her number and waited. One ring. Two. Then— "Ethan, darling—" "Don’t." His voice cut like glass. "We need to talk. In person. Today." Fiona hesitated, just enough to let him know she didn’t like being ordered around. "Coffee at West 49th. One hour." She hung up before he could respond. The café was tucked between a designer boutique and a members-only spa—her kind of territory. Ethan arrived before her and waited, jaw clenched, fingers drumming the table. She entered, draped in a charcoal coat, lips painted a surgical red. "I could say it’s nice to see you, but I’d be lying," he said without looking up. Fiona slid into the chair across from him. "Always such charm." Ethan leaned in. "This ends now. The games, the appearances, the unannounced visit