Daniel's jaw flexed as he took a slow, deliberate step closer, his tone dropping to a lethal calm that made the air in the hall feel suffocating.
"You expect me to believe," he said, each word deliberate and sharp, "that you just happened to walk into my study at that exact moment?"
Kira's throat bobbed. Her trembling hands clutched the edge of her dress as her eyes darted helplessly between Daniel and Anna. But no one was going to save her—not this time.
Daniel's mind was a storm, his thoughts dark and unrelenting. He had suspected her for a long time—her intrusive curiosity, the way she pried into his affairs, her subtle attempts to turn him against Anna.
And then there was that morning. The day she'd accused Anna of stealing his confidential file.
At the time, he'd dismissed it. He hadn't wanted to create unnecessary drama in the house as it would have alerted Anna. But now, looking at Kira's pale, shaking form, the realization hit him hard.
