SORENMy mind wouldn’t stay still.It kept drifting back to her—to that impossible, disorienting moment in the restaurant.For half a second, her eyes had locked onto mine. I'd watched them widen. Watching her brows pull together like she was solving an equation, like she was searching for something in my face that she couldn't quite name. It felt deliberate. Intentional. The way she looked at me—like recognition, like memory.Then, just as quickly, the recognition vanished, replaced by polite surprise—the kind people use when they meet someone they’ve only seen on TV.Maybe that was all it was. After all, she’d said it herself: the great boss of the tech world. Of course she’d be shocked to see me in a run-down diner that smelled like burnt oil and cheap coffee.Still… something in her voice, the way her gaze lingered, felt too personal.Or was I just reading into it?Now I sat at my desk, the sleeve of my shirt rolled up, staring at the mark on my wrist.The black cross was so recent
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