Amara did not panic.
With Ethan beside her, the study became a war room. Screens lit up with reports. Documents spread across the desk. Calls were made. Deals were triaged. Pressure points were identified.
“You’ve done this before,” Ethan observed.
“My father didn’t raise me to fall apart under pressure,” she replied.
Still, by evening, Tund called.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said smoothly.
“I’ve been busy,” Amara answered.
A soft chuckle. “Canceling weddings tends to do that.”
Then his voice changed.
“You heard something, didn’t you?”
Amara’s grip tightened on the phone. Ethan stood beside her, silent and solid.
“I heard enough,” she said.
A long pause.
“You’ve made a mistake,” Tund said quietly.
“No,” Amara replied. “I corrected one.”
“You think you can walk away from me?”
“I already have.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“I’m not yours to control.”
“No,” he said. “But everything you own is.”
The threat was cold and deliberate.
“You’re already trying,” she said. “It’s not working.”
“Not yet,” he replied.
She ended the call.
“He knows,” Ethan said.
“And he’s not backing down.”
“Neither are we.”
