Dionne
Marcus didn’t say much during breakfast. He never did, but that silence felt like a warning. There was something brewing behind those sharp eyes of his. The tension at the table thickened with every passing minute, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, even when I wasn’t looking his way.
After my siblings had gone, I retreated to my room, relieved to be away from the heavy atmosphere. I thought I could relax, but then my phone buzzed. It was Marcus. My heart skipped a beat. He never called unless it was serious.
"Come to my office," the text read.
I sighed, grabbed a hoodie, and made my way downstairs. Marcus was waiting, leaning against his desk. His posture was casual, but everything about him radiated authority. He gestured for me to sit across from him, and I obeye
