Author’s POVSilence settled over Henry’s office like a held breath.The echo of Monroe’s slap still seemed to linger in the air, sharp and invisible, vibrating against the stone walls long after the sound itself had died. Isyra stood where she was, one hand pressed to her burning cheek, eyes unfocused, chest rising too fast as she struggled to draw air into her lungs.Monroe watched her without sympathy.“Sit,” he said at last.The word was not loud, but it carried weight—years of conditioning wrapped in a single syllable. Isyra obeyed without thinking, sinking back into Henry’s chair as though her legs no longer trusted her. The seat felt colder now. Larger. Less welcoming.Her father resumed pacing, slow and methodical, like a predator circling prey that was already wounded.“You are thinking with your heart,” Monroe said, voice calm again, almost conversational. “That is your greatest flaw.”Isyra swallowed. “I’m thinking about Henry.”“That is the problem,” he snapped, spinning t
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