Chapter ThreeShe really should have asked for more money.
"'Did I wake you, darling?"
At the door of her office stands a tall man with short dark hair. He looks at east in his black Armani trench coat, hands in his pockets, a devil-may-care grin on his face. His eyes are mirthful and he looks genuinely pleased to see her, a sentiment that she doesn't return. "Yes," she says because it's true.
He chuckles at her expression, completely unrepentant. She wonders how he would react if she punched him across the nose and asked, "Did I hurt you, darling?"
It certainly feels like she had been gut-punched again. Seeing him drudges up memories she would rather keep as that. Memories - something for her to reminiscent on and regret now that she's older and wiser. Maybe one day, she would be able
