Panic Attack

Cattleya’s POV

She laughed, a mocking sound that grated on my nerves. "Guess I don't need to repeat myself, Cattleya. See you around."

With a provocative sway of her hips, she turned and walked away. Her laughter echoed behind me, a taunting melody that sent a surge of anger through my veins.

I stormed into the elevator, my mind racing. Upon reaching my condo, I slammed the door shut, the echo amplifying my frustration.

I sank into the soft cushions of the red velvet sofa, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"One step at a time," I muttered, my voice low and determined.

I cracked my knuckles and opened my laptop, eager to delve into the world of Jaxon Moretti.

His online persona was meticulously crafted, a pristine image of success and power—no scandals, no controversies—just a carefully curated facade.

My phone rang, interrupting my investigation. It was Vianne.

"Hey," I answered, my tone neutral.

"Miss Catt, we have dinner with Mr. Spencer tonight to discuss the Michelangelo Pieta