The cold smirk vanished from Michael’s face, replaced by an expression of utter, unimpressed impassivity.

Thud.

Chloe hit the polished marble floor with a jarring, un-cushioned impact. The fall was real, and it was hard. Her carefully arranged hair was now disheveled, and a genuine, sharp pain shot through her hip and twisted ankle, bringing involuntary tears to her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Helwart!" she gasped, her voice tight with real pain and feigned humiliation. "My ankle—I think I ...