Vivienne didn't look back as Windstone escorted her out. She knew when to accept defeat, especially when it came to Trevor Ariston Fitzgeralt.
There were certain battles you lost quietly, not because you lacked ambition, but because the cost of pressing forward would brand you desperate.
She sighed as they reached the privacy door. The corridor behind her was silent, dignified, like even the walls had chosen not to remember her visit.
"I'm sorry for troubling you," she said sweetly, her voice carrying just enough grace to sound sincere.
"There is no need for apologizing, my lady," Windstone replied, unbothered, his golden-framed glasses catching the late noon sun. He looked the same as always, composed, unshakable, impossible to charm.
"You're as cold as your master," she said, smiling faintly. "You know, I only wanted to see him. To know him."
