Fallon
I found him in his office — because of course I did.
The man practically lived in there, buried in his spreadsheets and power plays while the internet lost its collective mind over our so-called perfect marriage. And I… I was done being ignored.
I didn’t knock. I didn’t wait. I pushed the door open and walked in, my pulse already pounding.
“Are you allergic to your phone?” I demanded, not bothering with a hello.
Reid looked up slowly, his expression as cool and unreadable as ever. He barely even blinked. “Good evening to you too.”
“Don’t,” I warned, stepping inside and shutting the door harder than I needed to. “The video’s everywhere. It’s viral. People are obsessed — and you haven’t said a word.”
His eyes flicked back to his computer. Dismissive. Detached. “I’ve been busy.”
