Chapter 22

THE resort had been everything Amelia needed without knowing she needed it— quiet mornings, muted laughter, and the kind of calm that seeped slowly into the bones.

Her office stood.

It was a modest space for a CEO, intentionally so. The wide glass window behind the desk overlooked the skyline, sunlight streaming in generously, reflecting off polished surfaces. There were no unnecessary decorations, just clean lines, a framed photograph turned discreetly face-down, a potted plant in the corner, and shelves neatly arranged with files and a few awards that spoke quietly of achievement.

Behind the desk sat Amelia.

Impeccably dressed as always, she wore a fitted blazer over a silk blouse, her hair pulled back neatly, makeup minimal but precise. She looked every bit the woman who owned the room without trying. One manicured hand held her phone to her ear while the other toyed absently with a pen on the desk.

Seated opposite her, legs crossed elegantly, wa