I watched as Alistair scooped Ivy into his arms and rushed out of my office, her blood-stained hand hanging limply over his arm. The door slammed behind them, leaving me in deafening silence.
My legs finally gave out. I collapsed into my chair, trembling hands covering my face. No tears came. Just emptiness and a hollow ache spreading through my chest.
The office phone rang, startling me. My assistant's concerned voice filtered through.
"Ms. Shaw? Is everything alright? I saw Mr. Everett rushing out with—"
"I'm fine," I cut her off, my voice steadier than I felt. "Hold my calls for the next hour."
I hung up before she could respond and pulled my laptop closer. Work. I needed to lose myself in work.
For the next three hours, I buried myself in design sketches and fabric swatches, forcing my brain to focus on hemlines and color palettes instead of blood-stained lips and accusing eyes.
