ALEXANDER'S POVTwo weeks. Two damn weeks. And not a single day went by that I didn’t think of her. Of her. Abigail. No, Ivory. My head spun at the thought—how she could exist, alive, here in Richardson’s world, laughing, moving, breathing, while I had been drowning in the memory of her death.I couldn’t go back to the empty, lifeless existence I’d carved out for myself. My company teetered on the edge of collapse, my nights were haunted by dreams of her, and my hands shook with the ache of wanting what I couldn’t have. I had to do something.And so, I found myself standing outside Richardson’s office, the polished glass door reflecting my worn, determined expression. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me before I stepped in.Richardson looked up from his desk, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly. “Alexander. What brings you here?” His voice was calm, but I could feel the subtle edge in it, the warning that I should tread carefully.“I… I need to work for you,” I b
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