The walk from the penthouse to the private elevator felt like a funeral procession, only I was the one carrying the flowers. The weight of the white peonies was heavy in my arms, their scent cloying and sweet—a fragrant reminder of the price Jason had paid for my silence.
Jason walked beside me, his hand resting firmly in the small of my back. It was a gesture that looked protective to any of the staff we passed, but to me, it felt like a leash. He was guiding me, steering me, ensuring I didn't stumble as I navigated the world through the dark tint of my sunglasses.
When the elevator doors slid open in the underground garage, Vance was already standing by the rear door of the black town car. He didn’t look at me. He never did. He just held the door open, his face a stone mask of professi
