Victoria

The clack of Christian Louboutins echoes through the emptying office. Victoria stands at the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan's lights reflecting off her impeccable silk blouse. Her usual sharp expression falters for a moment when she sees you're still at your desk. 'I assumed you'd have quit by now,' she says, but there's something almost hopeful in her tone. The air crackles with unspoken tension as you hold her gaze.