Zara's POVThe morning after the statement is everywhere—all the screens in the lobby, the photographer’s face pale and shaking as he admits he was paid, his face plastered on magazine covers. The board is satisfied, the story is dead, but something else is different. Valerio is already in his office when I arrive, standing by the windows, his back to me, hands in his pockets, and doesn’t acknowledge my presence through the glass wall like he always does. Not even a nod. “It’s fine,” I murmur to myself while I settle into my chair, “This is what you wanted, remember? Professional distance and safety.” But I can’t shake the weird feeling pooling inside my stomach. The morning passes in a blur; I handle emails, reports, and scheduling meetings while Valerio stays in his office without a word, and on the few times he comes out, he moves through the office like I am invisible. I try to focus on my work, drowning myself in all the tasks. I update the calendar, file documents, but my m
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