“You really think you can just walk away from this, Amelia?” Zachary leaned back in his leather chair, his fingers steepled, the dim light of his office catching the gold band on his left hand. His voice was calm, almost bored, but his eyes never left hers. “You know what happens if you don’t cooperate.”

Amelia shifted in the stiff chair across from him, her hands gripping the edge of her seat. She was in her late twenties, with sharp green eyes that usually carried confidence but now flickered with unease. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, strands escaping to frame her face. She wore a simple blouse and jeans, but the tension in her posture made her seem anything but casual. Zachary, in his tailored suit, looked every bit the polished lawyer, his salt-and-pepper hair and sharp jawline giving him an air of authority.

“I didn’t agree to this,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You can’t just—” Zachary cut her off with a wave of his hand, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Oh, but I can. And you will. Unless you want that little secret of yours to come out.” He reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a manila folder and sliding it toward her. “Think carefully, Amelia. Your move.”