Monday morning, I fly to Seattle.It's the first time I've been back since everything imploded. The city looks the same—grey skies, rain-slicked streets, mountains in the distance—but I'm different. We both are.Damien's office building rises ahead of me, glass and steel against storm clouds. I stand on the sidewalk for a full minute, gathering courage, before I walk through the doors.The receptionist recognizes me. "Ms. Torres. Mr. Voss is expecting you. Twelfth floor, corner office."The elevator ride feels eternal. My reflection in the mirrored walls shows someone trying very hard to look composed—tailored suit, hair perfect, makeup flawless. Professional armor for a meeting that's anything but professional.The doors open.And there he is.Damien's standing in the hallway like he was waiting, like he couldn't stay in his office knowing I was in the building. He looks thinner than I remember, tired around the eyes, grey more pronounced at his temples. The lawsuit has aged him."El
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