Allyson's POV
Reagan's words dripped with calculated manipulation, each syllable crafted to burrow deep into my emotions. But one truth blazed brighter than his lies - I loved Michael with every fiber of my being.
Still, I carried my own guilt, my own mistakes. That crushing weight made it harder to face Reagan with the fury he deserved.
I swallowed the tightness in my throat and straightened my spine. "Cut the dramatics. What do you want from me?"
"Allyson, please." He gestured toward an empty chair with theatrical courtesy.
"Not until you stop wasting my time." I remained standing, arms locked across my chest.
"Just sit down. Please." Desperation cracked through his usual smooth tone.
Against my better judgment, I dropped into the chair, keeping my defensive posture. "Talk."
Rather than explain himself, Reagan pushed a menu across the table. "Let's order something first. What sounds good to you?"
