"Natalia, what are you doing here?"
Adam's voice was low, rougher than he intended, as he straightened behind his desk. His knuckles brushed against the polished wood, grounding him when his chest had already begun to tighten. Seeing her standing there—in his office, at this hour—was like a ghost clawing its way back into a life he no longer wanted. A life Sofia had painfully but fiercely claimed as hers.
Natalia's lips trembled, her doe-like eyes brimming with tears that glistened in the morning light streaming through the tall glass windows. She looked fragile, wounded—exactly how she wanted him to see her. "I came to ask," she whispered, her voice breaking, "why you humiliated me in front of everyone. At the party. In front of the whole world. How could you do that to me, Adam?"
