Vivienne POV

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I stepped out of Damon’s office, his handprint still burning on my backside through the skirt. No amount of rubbing made it fade. The hallway stretched longer than it had that morning, the lights too bright, like the walls were staring. My legs wobbled, but I forced them forward.

I hurried to my office, heels clicking fast, and shut the door with a quiet click that sounded too final.

The room was dim, blinds half-closed against the afternoon sun. My desk felt familiar, ...