Dylan's Point of View
Sleep had become a stranger to me.
I'd woken long before dawn, my mind unwilling to shut down. The mansion was dark and still, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint murmur of rain tapping the windows.
I'd spent most of the night replaying the last few days — Derick's return, Asher's intrusion, and the quiet way Ava's eyes had avoided mine since then. She was right; I'd built walls around my emotions for too long. But what she didn't know was that those walls had been my only defence.
When Ian arrived that morning, looking like he hadn't slept either, I already knew it wouldn't be a normal day.
"Derick's been moving quietly," he said, dropping a file on my desk. "He's made contact with two board members—Lynch and Dorsey. And both attended a private dinner with someone from Crest Holdings last night."
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing at my jaw. "Crest Holdings. Again."
