Emma's POV
The moment I stepped into my office, I felt the shift. Some days, the room welcomed me but today, it felt like it was holding its breath.
I set my bag on the desk, powered on my computer, and tried to lose myself in the calm rhythm of routine with client files, appointment schedules. The neat stack of reports I needed to finish.
Things that made sense unlike the last twenty-four hours of my life.
Clara's words from the café still clung to me like smoke.
If Damian wants you gone, he'll say it himself.
I'd said it out loud and I meant it but it didn't stop the tremors that had worked its way into my chest since I left her there, looking at me like I was a child wandering into oncoming traffic.
I rubbed my temples and exhaled slowly.
"Focus, Emma."
I had clients in thirty minutes. I had a reputation to maintain. I had a life to rebuild, again.
A soft knock broke the silence.
"Come in," I called, automatically slipping into my professional tone.
