Windsor's POV
The sensation hit me again, just like it had in her office at the United Factions headquarters. I felt weightless. Her private counseling space bore no resemblance to the sterile boardrooms and formal filing cabinets you'd expect from a career politician. Soft cream-colored drapes allowed golden sunlight to drift through delicate lacework, a thriving green plant in the corner showed signs of careful tending, and two different chairs sat casually beside her workspace. The entire room radiated an oddly soothing quality that caught me off guard.
I hadn't walked into an ambush, and that realization startled me more than anything else. Settling into the chair cautiously, I made sure not to disturb the loose documents spread across her desk surface. Her wall displayed various diplomas and awards, while a small picture frame on the bookshelf showed a much younger Scarlett beaming with happiness. She appeared to be someone who had once experienced genuine contentment.
