The heavy silence of the hospital corridor was punctured by Dominic Mylod’s voice, which carried a low, vibrating intensity that seemed to rattle the very windowpanes. He didn't move an inch, yet his presence expanded to fill the hallway, casting a long, predatory shadow over Misha Gates.
"Don’t you dare walk away," Dominic said, his eyes locking onto the Associate Director with a gaze of absolute frost. "I intend to have a very long, very detailed conversation with the head of this institution. I want to know exactly what kind of vetting process allows a woman with your specific brand of moral rot to wear a white coat and call herself a healer."
Misha stiffened, her heels clicking to a halt. She slowly turned back, her face contorting into a mask of pure, unadulterated arrogance. The ad
