Jake's fingers curled loosely around the crystal glass, the amber liquid within barely trembling as he sat silently on the leather couch of his penthouse living room. The dim lighting from the chandelier above cast a soft glow over the polished surfaces and pristine décor, giving the illusion of calm — but under the surface, tension brewed like a gathering storm.
He hadn't taken a sip.
Across from him, Claire sat with her legs crossed elegantly, a carefully composed smile tugging at her crimson-painted lips. Her gaze flickered briefly to the untouched glass in his hand before returning to meet his eyes. She was patient, but only just.
Then Jake finally broke the silence.
"Sharon is my friend," he said firmly, the weight of loyalty and concern thick in his voice. "And I can't allow you to kick her out of Andrew's house. They both love each other. You have no right to interfere."
