POV — Catriona
The office was quieter than usual, the hum of computers and soft footfalls the only soundtrack to an otherwise tense morning. I was at my desk, reviewing the latest financial projections, when I felt it—the subtle shift of energy that meant someone was observing.
Charles Laurent.
I didn’t have to look up to know. His presence always carried that calculated weight, the kind of attention that dissected every move, every decision, every detail. He wasn’t openly hostile, not yet. But his scrutiny had a precise, predatory quality. I could feel his gaze from across the room. He was assessing me—not just my professional competence, but my position in Shawn’s orbit.
Shawn’s office door opened quietly, and he stepped out, his presence immediately grounding. Calm. Controlled. Powe
