The tension in the office was thick enough to cut with a knife. Paulina stood before Benedict, her face a mask of simmering emotions. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now clouded with a mixture of hurt and anger.
“I forgive you,” she said, her voice a low, rumbling whisper. “But I’m not forgetting.”
Benedict’s heart lurched. He had braced himself for a storm, but this quiet, almost resigned acceptance, was even more unsettling. He knew Paulina, knew her fiery spirit, and this calm facade only meant the storm was brewing beneath the surface.
“Paulina, I…” he began, but she cut him off.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice laced with a warning. “Don’t try to explain. Don’t try to justify. I know what happened. I saw what happened.”
She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “And I’
