Before heading to my office, I found myself in the lobby of Dane Media. As I approached the receptionist, ready to ask for an appointment, she surprised me by saying, “Mr. Dane is expecting you.” I blinked, caught off guard, but nodded and walked to his office.

There he was, seated behind his desk, focused on a stack of documents with his head bent forward, completely absorbed. I opened my mouth to greet him, but he beat me to it, his voice dry and distant: “What did I do this time?”

The words stung, but I took a breath and pushed forward. “Good morning, Carter,” I said quietly, a little softer than intended. “I… I wanted to apologize for last night. I thought you were using me, but after seeing the photos… well, I realize I was wrong.”

He finally looked up, his face unreadable. “It’s fine. But maybe you were right last night—let’s keep things professional. From now on, we’ll interact through our assistants and meet once a week for updates.”

Each word felt like a tiny stab to my chest. This was exactly what I’d said I wanted, but hearing him say it so firmly made me feel like I’d lost something. I nodded, swallowing down the strange ache in my throat. “Of course. I’ll… I’ll see myself out.”

Without waiting for a response, I left his office, the sound of the door closing feeling far too final.