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Chapter Eight

Stephanie

Amara Adeyemi's apartment overlooked the Toronto waterfront from a modern high-rise that somehow managed to feel both elegant and lived-in. Like her brother, she appreciated clean lines and functional design, but unlike Marcus's stark minimalism, Amara's space burst with vibrant art, plush furnishings, and enough plants to qualify as a small jungle.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, throwing open the door before Marcus could even knock. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost calculating traffic patterns on your way over."

Marcus accepted his sister's exuberant hug with the resigned tolerance of someone long accustomed to it, though the affection beneath was obvious. Behind him, Stephanie watched with fascination. Amara was everything Marcus wasn't—expressive, animated, radiating energy like a supernova.

"Stephanie," Amara turned her attention to their guest, wrapping her in an equally enthusiastic embrace. "I'm so glad you could make it. Marcus has been sulking ever since I told him we had lunch yesterday."

"I don't sulk," Marcus protested.

"You absolutely do," both women replied in unison, then exchanged surprised glances before bursting into laughter.

Marcus sighed, hanging his coat on the hooks by the door. "I see an alliance has already formed."

"The strongest kind," Amara agreed cheerfully, ushering them into her open living space. "Based on a mutual appreciation for your quirks and a shared inability to take you too seriously."

Stephanie felt the tension of the past days ebbing as they moved into the apartment. After the game, Reed's threats, and the intensity of her locker room conversation with Marcus, Amara's unfiltered warmth felt like stepping into sunlight after a storm.

The dining table was already set, and delicious aromas drifted from the kitchen. Classical music played softly—Bach, Stephanie guessed, remembering Marcus's brief mention of his father's love for the composer's mathematical structures.

"Wine?" Amara offered, already pouring without waiting for answers. "Mom's sorry she couldn't join us. Hospital board meeting."

"She's well?" Marcus asked, accepting a glass.

"Thriving. She's terrorizing the new hospital administrators and loving every minute." Amara handed Stephanie a glass of rich red wine. "Our mother is a formidable cardiologist who treats hospital bureaucracy as a personal insult to patient care."

"That explains so much," Stephanie murmured, taking a sip.

"About Marcus? Absolutely. Though Dad was the numbers person. Mom's all about systems and action." Amara checked something in the oven. "Dinner's almost ready. Marcus, make yourself useful and set out that salad I prepared."

As Marcus moved to the kitchen with practiced familiarity, Stephanie watched the siblings' easy interaction with a twinge of longing. An only child raised by career-focused parents, she'd never experienced this kind of casual family banter.

"So," Amara said, returning to refill her glass, "since my brother is busy arranging lettuce leaves to mathematical perfection, tell me how the presentation for Darby & Darby is going."

The question seemed casual, but Stephanie caught the protective undertone. Amara was assessing the professional situation that had brought her brother into alliance with someone he'd previously considered an adversary.

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