Chapitre 40: WHO THE FUCK IS HE?

I slammed the report down on my mahogany desk, the sound echoing through my office like a gunshot. The room was a mess of high-end decor and corporate bluster, but right now, none of that mattered. The only thing in focus was the damning information that Whitney had delivered.

How could Milan meet with a man? How dare she become so bold. The words echoed in my mind, twisting the knife of my frustration and anger.

My office, usually a sanctuary of control and power, felt like a prison right now. The walls, lined with accolades and framed achievements, seemed to close in on me as I tried to process the information. The fact that she met a man in her boutique was a direct challenge to my sense of order and control.