Darius Kingsley lived in a house that didn't feel like a home.
High walls. Armed guards. Silence that pressed against the ears.
Victor Kingsley stood near the window when his son walked in, his presence filling the room without effort. He did not turn around.
"You were late," Victor said.
Darius loosened his cufflinks. "I had business."
Victor laughed softly. "You always do."
There was a pause. Heavy. Measured.
"Women make men careless," Victor continued. "Never forget that."
Darius stiffened.
Somewhere across the city, Amara sat alone on her bed, staring at the phone in her hand. Darius' name glowed on the screen.
She hadn't planned to answer.
She answered anyway.
"Dinner tomorrow?" he asked.
Her heart said yes before her mind could stop it.
"I'll come," she said.
As the call ended, Amara closed her eyes, the weight of her secret pressing down on her chest.
Loving Darius Kingsley was no longer a risk.
It was a mistake already in motion.