Ruby
The Chicago skyline was a blurred smear of neon and steel, a cold, indifferent backdrop to the storm raging inside me. We had survived the breakfast meeting—a performance so grueling it left my jaw aching from the forced, polished smiles—and now, the silence in our suite was heavy, saturated with the scent of Alexander’s cologne and the suffocating weight of his constant, watchful gaze.
My phone buzzed against the marble tabletop, the vibration rhythmic and jarring. When I saw Allie’s name, my defenses crumbled. I walked to the balcony, the freezing Chicago wind whipping my hair across my face, and pressed the phone to my ear.
"Allie?"
"Ruby! You won't believe it!" Her voice was frantic, bubbling over with a kind of incandescent joy I hadn't felt in my entire life. "James...
