The instant Chelsea realized her father had arranged Jason’s visit, her stomach tightened as if someone had yanked an invisible cord inside her chest.

“What does he want with you?” she asked, too quickly.

She could already imagine it—Kingston cornering Jason, lacing every sentence with humiliation sharp enough to draw blood.

Jason shook his head. “He didn’t say. Just that he wanted to talk.”

“All right…” She exhaled slowly, trying to appear calm.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she added in a softer voice, “If Dad says anything harsh, please… don’t take it personally.”

Jason’s lips curved into an easy, unforced smile.