I sat alone in my penthouse, the city lights shimmering through the massive glass windows. My once-pristine living room was cluttered with evidence of my desperation—scattered documents, an open laptop, and half-empty wine glasses littered the space.
The usually sharp and unshakable me now looked disheveled, my hair loosely tied back, my makeup smudged, and my eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights.
My phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence. I stared at the screen, Victor's name glowing ominously. I hesitated, debating whether to answer, but the buzzing persisted, cutting into me nerves. Finally, i picked it up.
"What now?" I snapped, masking the tremor in my voice.
Victor's voice was low, almost mocking. "Careful, Vanessa. That tone won't serve you well where you're heading."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, gripping the phone tightly.
