The ultimatum hung in the quiet living room, thick and immovable as stone. Sarah stared at the manila folder sitting on the cushion between them, her chest rising and falling in slow, ragged breaths. Every fiber of her being wanted to fight Jayden's possessive decree on principle—to rail against his domineering authority, to demand her independence—yet deep beneath her exhaustion, she knew he was right about Keith's motives. Keith's touch on her cheek, his subtle lingering smile, his deliberate taunts in front of Jayden—none of it had been about helping her find peace. It had been about control.
"Fine," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the air conditioner. She looked up, her bloodshot eyes locking onto Jayden's unyielding gaze. "If you handle the rest of the search... if you promise to help me find them without playing political games... then I won't ever speak to Keith again."
