REOMEN
My hand curled into a fist at my side, the knuckles pressing white against the dark fabric of my tuxedo. I watched her walk away from me.
Each click of her heel on the marble was a nail being driven into my chest. The woman I love. The woman I built an empire for. And she looked through me like I was a ghost.
Frustration was a hot, coiling snake in my gut. It was a foreign, infuriating feeling. I was a man who solved problems. I dismantled conglomerates before breakfast.
But this… this was a problem I couldn't solve with money or threats. Her indifference was a fortress I couldn't breach.
My eyes, against my will, followed her. She moved through the crowd with a new kind of grace—not the hesitant steps of an outsider, but the confident stride of a queen claiming her territory.
