THE CLUBHOUSE living room felt too large tonight.
Too quiet.
Lily sat curled on the edge of the leather couch, knees drawn close to her chest, staring at the fire without really seeing it. The flames cracked and hissed, casting restless shadows across the walls—shadows that stretched and twisted like truths half-told.
Two men. Two stories. And somewhere in the middle, her heart had begun to splinter.
Jeremiah had barely looked at her since Ronan announced Mary was being held inside the Hale estate. He’d gone rigid, distant, disappearing into strategy meetings and clipped conversations that ended the moment Lily entered a room. Protective as ever, but guarded now in a way that felt intentional. Like restraint sharpened into silence.
And then there was Ayden.
He leaned against the far
