"Julian, you're not thinking clearly," Clara stammered, her back pressing against the heavy oak door of the office. Her eyes darted nervously around the trashed room, landing everywhere except on Julian's face. "Victor Sterling was just a venture capitalist back then. I was your assistant; it was my

The sound of Julian’s shattered weeping echoed through the massive, empty bedroom. For a year, I had drifted through these halls, a silent phantom forced to endure his bitter hatred. I had watched him erase my presence, pack away my clothes, and mock the memory of my love. But seeing him like this—b

The silence in the bedroom was thick, heavy with the sharp tang of spilled whiskey and fresh blood. Clara stood frozen, her chest heaving as crimson droplets fell from her sliced palm onto the immaculate hardwood floor.

Julian didn't look at her hand. He didn't offer her a towel. His eyes were loc