The night before the beach trip, Adam stood outside Elise's house, leaning against the hood of his SUV beneath the quiet glow of the porch light. Inside, muffled laughter drifted from the kitchen—Sofia's laugh among them, light and uninhibited.
He pulled out his phone, voice low and steady.
"Laila."
"Sir," she responded instantly, calm and alert.
"I need everything arranged for tomorrow morning. Sunrise catering, cocktails by noon, private dinner by the shore—string lights, live acoustic set, fire pit. Keep it elegant but simple."
"Got it. Guest list?"
"Everyone staying here. Include the staff and Mr. and Mrs. Reyes. But, Laila..." His voice dropped, gaze drifting to the lit window where Sofia's silhouette moved behind the curtain. "No one is to know it's mine. Especially not her."
Laila paused only a beat before replying, "Understood, sir."
