Sloane Kensington sat at the small kitchen island of her childhood home, a steaming cup of tea in her uninjured hand, while her phone rested on speaker. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm, deceptive glow over the domestic quiet.

"The dominoes have officially begun to fall,

By the time Declan burst through the front door of their suburban home, he was a hurricane of misplaced rage and desperation. He slammed the door so hard the framed photographs in the hallway rattled against the drywall.

"Sloane!" he bellowed, tearing off his muddy jacket and throwing it onto the

For a long, suffocating moment, the only sound in the cavernous boardroom was the faint hum of the climate control system. Declan stood frozen, his eyes darting frantically from Sloane’s cold, imperial gaze to Roman’s predatory smirk, and back again. His brain, wired for narcissism and control, viol