Victor slammed the car door shut, his knuckles white as he gripped the leather seat. The plush interior of the Jaguar, usually a comfort, now felt suffocating. His encounter with Emily replayed in his mind, each detail sharp and accusatory.
"Damn it," he muttered, loosening his tie with trembling fingers. He'd lost control, and let the mask slip. The look of fear in Emily's eyes haunted him - it was a reminder of the darkness he tried so desperately to keep hidden.
Victor closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep, measured breaths. The scent of leather and expensive cologne filled his nostrils, a stark contrast to the grimy streets outside. He was straddling two worlds, and the effort of maintaining his carefully crafted persona was beginning to take its toll.
"You're better than this," he told himself sternly. "You've come too far to let it all crumble now."
