Chapter 41
Mark's chair swirled in slow circles, the soft creak of the leather mingling with the quiet hum of the overhead lights. His eyes remained locked on the large screen of his laptop. That same intimidating face stared back at him—Skylar, cold and victorious, as if mocking him through the pixels.
The screen's pale glow painted his face in blue, and for a moment, he looked ghostly.
He stopped spinning and glanced at Evelyn, who sat across from him, the scent of her vanilla perfume barely masking the sharp tang of expensive ink and polished steel in her office.
"If I say yes to this… will it really work out?" Mark asked, twirling a pen between his fingers. The smooth metal clicked with every anxious spin, betraying his hesitation.
Evelyn sighed—for the seventh time. Her long nails tapped against the glass surface of her black desk, each tap echoing like a countdown.
