Damian had been staring at the same document for over ten minutes.
The words on the screen were sharp and clear, the figures precise, the projections flawless. Everything was exactly how he wanted it, how he always demanded it to be and yet, none of it was sinking in.
His eyes skimmed the page again, still nothing.
He leaned back in his chair slowly, exhaling through his nose, his jaw tightening as irritation crawled up his spine. He hated this feeling. Hated losing control over his own thoughts. Work had always been his anchor, the one place where nothing slipped through his fingers.
Now even that felt compromised.
He straightened abruptly and scrolled back to the top of the page, forcing himself to read from the beginning. One line. Two.
His mind drifted again.
Upstairs, behind a closed door.
A door that had stayed closed since yesterday.
His fingers curled into a fist against the desk.
She hadn't come down for breakfast or lunch again.
