DEBORAH'S POV
The early morning sun cast long shadows across the lawn as I stood frozen, my heart pounding. Elijah's words hung in the air, the tension palpable between us. My father's piercing gaze shifted from Elijah to me, his expression inscrutable in the golden light. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.
"Well," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "this does change things, doesn't it?"
A shiver ran down my spine at the calculated tone in his voice. My father, Valentine Sutton, was not a man to be trifled with, and I knew he was weighing every possible outcome in his mind.
After what felt like an eternity, he turned to me, his eyes boring into mine. "Make sure your man doesn't die," he said, his words clipped and cold. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode back into the house, the door slamming behind him with finality.
