Walter’s POV
I’d been in this business long enough to know when something was off.
When silence in the press wasn’t peace, it was calculation.
And this morning, everything was off.
The maid didn’t look me in the eye as she poured my coffee. My head of security hadn’t returned my call. And Kaia—who’d spent the past week clinging to every opportunity to remind me we were “on the same page”—hadn’t come downstairs once.
I stirred my coffee slowly, trying to quiet the tension in my gut. My hand didn’t shake. Not visibly. But inside, something was twisting, turning, folding in on itself.
The television was on low in the background. I wasn’t listening.
Not until I heard my name.
“—Walter Blackwood and Kaia Whitmore—under scrutiny in what could be one of the most high-profile financial sca
