–Livana–
News of the billion-dollar operation being dismantled reached me like the sharp edge of a paper cut—small, but it lingered. I rubbed my temple, considering the implications. Should I intervene? Part of me whispered yes, but another part—colder, older—reminded me that Damon is not a man who easily collapses under pressure. He can stitch up his own wounds. Or at least, he should.
Deanne's gaze burned into me from across the room, her patience thinning like the wick of a dying candle.
"So?" I finally asked, raising my eyes to meet hers. "Do you have anything else to say?"
She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor. "Hmm," she murmured, eyes narrowing. "Do you think it would be better if you divorced him?"
I laughed—softly, but the sound had a blade's edge—as I leaned back into my swivel chair. "Are you jealous?" I asked, lips curving into a faint grin meant to provoke.
