I barely made it to the executive ladies' room before my knees threatened to give way.
I didn't stop at the sinks; I headed straight for the far stall, the one furthest from the door, and bolted the lock with trembling fingers.
I didn't sit.
I just leaned my forehead against the cold, clinical tile of the wall and let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in my lungs since the previous night.
Less than twenty-four hours.
In less than twenty-four hours, I had gone from arguing about the "rules" of our secret on a moonlit terrace to standing in a boardroom listening to a group of men discuss William's reproductive future as if he were a prize stallion.
Engagement.
Alliance.
Heir.
The words were like physical blows, bruising the parts of me I tried so hard to keep hidden. Every time Julian mentioned Isabella's name in the same breath as William's, it felt like the walls of the room were narrowing, pressing the air out of my chest.
