The bass from the club floor below pulsed faintly through the walls, but Barry sat still in his office upstairs, the door shut tight, his desk covered in files. He’d been scanning through contracts, receipts, and shipment logs all morning, but his mind hadn't stayed on the paperwork for long.
His laptop screen glowed in front of him, a paused CCTV clip from the mansion's garden displayed clearly.
He pressed play again. And there it was... Lucy.
Wearing a loose white blouse, hair fluttering in the breeze, smiling up at Dean like she had no care in the world.
Barry’s jaw tensed as he leaned back in his chair. His fingers tapped slowly against the wooden armrest.
Dean.
He watched as the man laughed at something Lucy said, then leaned in slightly, too casually, like they’d known each oth
