Allyson's POV
My fingers drummed an anxious rhythm against the polished mahogany table. The contract papers spread before me looked official and intimidating, their crisp white pages a stark contrast to the dark wood surface.
Why had Michael insisted on meeting in this sterile boardroom instead of his private office? The formal setting made everything feel cold and transactional, as if we were complete strangers hammering out business terms rather than two people who had once shared intimate moments and whispered promises in the darkness.
The memory of his hands on my skin, the way he used to look at me like I was his entire world, felt like a lifetime ago now. Everything had shifted so quickly that my head was still spinning.
