Maya's POV
I dragged myself out of bed with puffy eyes and a skull-splitting headache. Amberplains sunlight poured through the blinds, telling me it was already past nine in the morning. Sleep had been a cruel joke, filled with nightmares where Sebastian stared at me with those ice-cold eyes, accusing me of sins I never committed.
Perched on the mattress edge, I buried my face in my palms. My cheeks were still raw from the tears I'd shed through the night. After he stormed out, I'd collapsed on the sofa, cycling between rage and devastation, desperately trying to piece together how our world had crumbled so quickly.
I understood his shock. The wine bottles, Victor's card, the suspicious timing—it painted an ugly picture. I knew about Valentina and the damage she'd inflicted on his ability to trust. His defensive reaction made perfect sense. But logic didn't ease the ache in my chest.
