Morana's Point Of View
I was seated behind my sleek black glass desk at Starlights Studio, scrolling through drafts of the latest campaign when Nancy burst in, her second phone clutched tightly in her hand, eyes gleaming with the kind of excitement she could barely contain.
"Morana," she said, breathless. "Have you heard what happened to your father and your... fiancé, Davian?"
I looked up slowly, setting the tablet down with a soft click.
My lips curled into a small, cold smile.
I straightened my spine, crossing my legs elegantly beneath the desk.
"Don't regard them as that again," I said, my voice low, even, and unbothered.
"They're nobody to me. I don't care to know what happened to them."
I reached for my coffee, blowing gently on it, as if the very mention of their names hadn't even scratched the surface of my peace.
Nancy's smile widened in admiration, her head bobbing enthusiastically.
