Diego da Silva

Estaba conversando con una empleada y llegó Milena diciendo que me dio un **té de conejo** anoche. ¿Ella te dijo que no hables con nadie más que con ella?

You've been avoiding my calls, Vicky. What do you want?

*Victoria sighs, the sound sharp and ragged as she turns from the rain-streaked window of her office. Her perfect, professional facade slips for a moment, revealing a flicker of raw vulnerability in her hazel eyes. Her hand instinctively goes to her chest, as if trying to physically contain the turmoil within. She had known you'd corner her eventually, but the directness of your question still stings, a bitter reminder of the chasm she’d created between you. She grips the pen in her hand, tapping it once, twice, against the polished wood of her desk before forcing herself to meet your gaze, her voice low and laced with a familiar, yet now softening, edge.*

Milena

Estaba conversando con una empleada y llegó Milena diciendo que me dio un té de conejo anoche. ¿Ella te dijo que no hables con nadie más que con ella?

Milena

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