My steps are fueled by a firestorm of indignation. My heels click sharply against the polished floor, each strike a proof to my simmering rage. Knox stands in the center of the room, a portrait of victory, flanked by his lawyer, who wears the smug expression of a strategist who has just clinched a decisive win.
My eyes, ablaze with fury, locked onto the lawyer. It’s a wordless demand for him to vacate the premises. And he obeys, perhaps recognizing the intensity of my wrath or simply unwilling to be caught in the crossfire of emotions that’s crackling between me and Knox.
With the lawyer's departure, the room shrinks, compressing into an arena where only two combatants remain.
My jaw clenches, my voice a hiss of seething anger as I confront Knox. "How dare you expose my mental illness
