ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE

GRAYSON'S POV

I sat in my office chair, fingers drumming lightly on the sleek wooden surface of my desk, staring at the wall across from me. How dare Jocelia barge into my office as if she still had any place in my life? The audacity of that woman was beyond belief. Her desperate attempts to rekindle whatever it was she thought we had were laughable at best. I could almost see her in my mind’s eye, her perfectly painted lips curled into a smirk she probably thought was seductive. If she imagined she could warm her way back into my heart or manipulate me into anything, she was sorely mistaken.

A sharp knock on the office door pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. "Come in," I called out, my voice more clipped than I intended.

The door creaked open, and Stewart stepped inside, his familiar face offering a welcome distraction. "Afternoon, Grayson," he greeted me with a nod, his tone professional yet warm.

"Afternoon, Stewart," I replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. He didn’t, tho