The lie landed like a slap worse than Clara's.
Fiona's laugh was broken short, jagged, hollow.
"Right. Of course. The boss." She shook her head slowly, in disbelief, eyes shining with unshed tears. "The boss who kisses his employees in elevators. The boss who "
She cut herself off.
Swallowed hard.
Took one step back.
Then another.
She grabbed her bag from the floor where it had fallen during the confrontation knuckles white around the strap.
Martin reached out instinctive, gentle.
"Fiona—"
She shook her head again sharper this time.
"Don't."
She turned.
Walked past Clara, who stood frozen a few feet away, eyes wide, mouth half-open, face pale as milk.
Fiona didn't look at her.
Didn't look at Martin.
She just walked fast, head high, tears burning behind her eyes but refusing to fall until she was out of sight.
The boutique doors swung shut behind her.
Silence crashed back in.
