Krystal The second those Obè Vogue execs left, I was already vibrating. f*****g livid. I didn’t even realize how hard I was gripping the folder in my hand until my knuckles turned white. The numbers were perfect. The pitch was flawless. And yet, somehow, Ryland f*****g Johansson still managed to twist the knife, to push just enough to make me feel like I was dancing on the edge of a goddamn cliff. Not today. Not with this deal. This was too f*****g important. I stormed through the office like a bullet, heels clicking like gunfire against the polished floors. Heads turned. People whispered. I didn’t give a single f**k. Let them look. Let them talk. No one was getting in my way. The door to Ryland’s office was cracked open, and I didn’t hesitate. I shoved it open so hard it slammed aga

