She finds me exhausting now.
The irony was bitter. Years ago, she'd looked at me with adoration, called me a "blue snowflake"—a perfect fusion of ice and fire, a confident chaser of light.
When you're in love, quirks are treasures. When love fades, they become scars.
I opened my mouth to retort, but a sharp knock cut me off.
Claire's assistant pushed the door open, eyes darting between us with a skittish expression.
"What?" Claire barked.
"Director Vance... you need to check your email. Immediately."
Beyond the glass walls, the usual hum of the workspace had spiked into clamor, then died into suffocating silence.
A cold premonition settled in my gut. I pulled out my phone.
There it was. An anonymous company-wide email.
The target was me.
A sprawling, melodramatic diatribe that twisted my entire career into a narrative of manipulation—claiming my achievements were nothing more than milestones in a quest for fame, fueled by nepotism.
Whispers drifted through the crack in the door.
"So Ruby's actually married to Director Vance? Don't we have a policy against undisclosed office romances?"