Chapter 83. The Weight of Control

“Still watching?” Harper whispered to the empty glass.

The window offered no answer—just the city, coiled in cables and shadows, humming like it knew too much.

She wasn’t alone in the penthouse, but the silence between them had lasted too long. Knox stood at the far end of the room, spine against the steel pillar, arms crossed. He hadn’t touched her since the last press drop, when her speech made the Council flinch and investors shift.

“You said it wouldn’t haunt you,” he said.

“It doesn’t.”

He tilted his head. “You haven’t taken off that ribbon in days.”

Harper glanced down. The new clasp—matte black—rested on her wrist. Not jewelry. A quiet kind of shackle.

“I’m not hiding behind it,” she said. “I’m reminding myself why I can’t afford to unravel.”

Knox moved slowly. Not like a threat. Like something heavy had rooted itself in his chest. “There’s a difference between restraint and repression.”

Her mouth twitched. “Don’t psychoan