Next chapter:
Chapter 2: Waking Up as a Scoundrel
PREVIEW
... s ergonomic chair, maintaining perfect eye contact with the woman sobbing across from him.
His office, all clean lines, neutral colors, and motivational prints that he’d grown to hate, felt particularly suffocating today.
The late afternoon sun slanted through floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting dust motes that danced like his thoughts, scattered and exhausted.
"Sarah," he said gently, his voice carrying the practiced warmth of five thousand similar sessions.
" ...
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