Renegotiation

The printer in the study had gone cold, but the ink on the document was still fresh—a sharp, sterile contrast to the wreckage of the Thorne estate. The room, once a fortress of mahogany and secrets, felt hollowed out. The brass seals had been pried from the walls, and the heavy, velvet curtains were drawn back, exposing the room to the harsh, unforgiving light of a city that had already begun to pick the Thorne name apart.

Julian stood by the window, his silhouette rigid against the skyline. He looked like a man who had finally set down a burden that had been crushing his spine for a decade. On the desk, the annulment papers lay waiting: ivory stock, precise black ink, a clean, clinical exit.

“You d

Preview ends here. Subscribe to continue.