Declan exhales slowly, like he is weighing how much to say.
“Ezra had every intention of rejecting you,” he says finally, his tone measured, “he’s been planning it for years.”
The words hit harder than I expect.
Years.
“I don’t care,” I say automatically, because that is the only safe response.
“You should,” he replies quietly.
I laugh, but it sounds hollow.
“Why? So I can feel grateful he changed his mind.”
“He doesn’t know what made him change it,” Declan continues, ignoring my sarcasm, “he walked into that office prepared to cut the bond clean.”
“And yet,” I say sharply, “he didn’t.”
Declan’s gaze shifts briefly toward the door, then back to me.
“No,” he agrees.
Something uncomfortable settles in my chest, something that feels dangerously like curiosity, and I shove it down
