I followed him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The study was quiet, the noise of the ballroom fading behind the thick mahogany door.

Julian was already inside, standing near the fireplace.

He held a glass of scotch in his hand, the ice clinking softly.

“You look beautiful, Claire,” he said, turning to face me. “It’s a pity we couldn’t make this work.”

“Where is my father?” I asked, refusing to move further into the room.

Julian set his glass down on the mantelpiece.

“He is safe,” Julian said. “For now.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded document.

“The divorce papers,” he said. “Signed by me. Once I have the amendment, you will be free.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the folded parchment.

“Show me the proof first,” I said.

Julian smiled, a slow, cruel expression that Alexander could never make.

He reached for his phone, ready to make a call.

At that exact moment, the lights in the study flickered.

A low, deep vibration shook the floorboards as the ballroom’s sound system hummed.

Julian paused, his brow furrowing.