LISA’S POV
The knock came exactly at midnight.
Sharp.
Controlled.
But beneath the surface, I heard the rage.
I knew that knock.
Liam Styles wasn’t just here to talk.
He was here to tear me apart.
My pulse throbbed in my ears as I walked toward the door of my penthouse.
The city lights glittered behind me—mocking me, reminding me that this was the price of power.
I opened the door slowly.
Liam stood there in a dark suit, his tie loosened, eyes shadowed by something dangerous.
His jaw was tight.
His lips pressed in a flat line.
And in his hand?
A folder.
Thick.
Heavy.
Poisonous.
I knew exactly what was inside.
“Come in,” I whispered, my voice colder than I intended.
But Liam didn’t move.
He just stood there, staring at me.
Like he didn’t recognize the woman he was loo
