Tristan Davis stood frozen, his hand still resting on the arm of the chair.
Emily Blair, livid, didn’t hesitate. She lashed out with her foot, kicking him square in the stomach.
She didn’t hold back. Tristan doubled over with a choked gasp, stumbling back until his shoulders hit the floor-to-ceiling window behind him.
The sight of him—disheveled, looking hurt and wronged—only made Emily more irritated. After all, she was the one who’d just been unfairly attacked, yet here Tristan was, playing the victim.
Without another glance at him, she spun her chair around with a huff and focused on her computer, her face cold and intent.
A few tense seconds passed before Tristan, voice hoarse, finally broke the silence. “Emily, I’m sorry. It was my fault…”
Emily didn’t look up, her tone icy as she typed, “Just leave. Now.”
Tristan’s voice cracked with desperation. “I don’t want to go. Can I stay, please?”
She ignored him, her fingers hammering the keyboard so loudly it echoed through the office.
Tristan lifted his head, his expression twisted with discomfort and wounded pride as he gazed at Emily.
“…Should I go, then?”
She still didn’t answer.
Clenching his fists, Tristan quietly skirted past her desk, slipped out of the office, and, even in his dejection, remembered to pull the door closed behind him.
Only after he’d left did Emily finally lift her head, expressionless as she pushed the keyboard away.
“Mr. Davis, what happened to your face?”
Sadie’s gaze was curious, almost amused, as she took in the angry red mark across Tristan’s cheek. It was impossible to miss—she’d spotted it the second he walked out.
Tristan’s face fell, but at the sound of another voice, he quickly straightened, trying to act unfazed as he touched his cheek. “Oh, I just tripped. It’s nothing.”


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