Victor’s PoV:
The Langford Enterprises headquarters towered over downtown Boston like a glass monolith, all sharp angles and reflective surfaces that caught the winter sun and threw it back in blinding shards.
From my corner office on the forty-second floor, the city sprawled beneath me—cars crawling like ants and people reduced to specks.
It should have felt like control, the way it always did. Instead, today it felt like isolation.
I sat behind my desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, staring at the same spreadsheet for the third hour without really seeing the numbers.
My mind was elsewhere—stuck on last night, on the wedding night, on the woman I ignored when I was supposed to be in bed with her, losing myself completely. Andrea, my wife.
The word still felt new and fragile, lik
