Claudia sat at the bar in her father's mansion. Her fingers gripped the crystal tumbler of whiskey she took from one of the bar's shelves. Her father's private collection of fine spirits lined the shelves behind her, but she wasn't there for the luxury—she was there to drown the storm brewing in her mind. The fight with Damian replayed in her thoughts like a broken record.
How dare he? Writing her name, saying it out loud as if it were nothing. Who was this "Amaris"? The way he spoke about her, like some lingering ghost haunting his thoughts, made Claudia's blood boil. Damian had always been distant, but now it felt different. It wasn't just coldness—it was like she didn't even know him anymore.
The door to the bar creaked open, and her father, Yves, stepped in. Still in his sharp suit a
