Noah swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he glanced toward the door, as if half-expecting it to swing open again.
He had come here to do a job, clean, clinical, uncomplicated. Not to get tangled in whatever storm was raging inside the Whitehall estate.
But Estelle was looking at him now, and the desperation in her eyes made it impossible to stay detached.
He exhaled slowly. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, his voice lower this time, edged with reluctant resolve.
Estelle drew in a breath, steadying herself as something sharper settled behind her gaze. "I need to see him," she said. "Not hear about him. Not read messages."
Her gaze hardened. "I need to look him in the eye and decide if he's lying to me."
She paused, her fingers tightening slightly against the sheets. "And then, I need to walk again."
The room fell quiet for a beat, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the space between them.
