ELIJAH'S POV
The coffee tasted like shit. I'd been sitting in my study desk for two hours, staring at Isaac's quarterly reports without reading a single word. The numbers blurred together every time I tried to focus. My phone kept buzzing with congratulatory messages from business associates who thought the radio story was brilliant strategic positioning.
If only they knew I'd completely forgotten about authorizing it.
The morning had started normal enough. Then Deborah exploded about the radio piece and everything went sideways. I kept replaying her words. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" The raw fury in her voice. The way she looked at me like I was a stranger.
Which was fair. I was becoming a stranger to myself.
My door burst open without a knock. Mother swept in like she owned the place. Which, technically, she did own a significant portion of it.
"Elijah Rossi." She used my full name like I was twelve years old again. "What were you thinking?"
