Veer's POV
The scent of burnt espresso and dry tension filled the hallway as Veer stepped toward his cabin, two takeaway cups of black coffee balanced in one hand, a stack of printed affidavits tucked beneath the other. It was nearing midnight, and yet the floor was still lit—artificial fluorescence glaring down at lives fueled by deadlines and legal warfare. His footsteps softened as he approached his door.
Support the Story ✨ If my words made you blush, bite your lip, or whisper “just one more chapter”… you’re officially part of the chaos I call storytelling. Wanna help me write more heartbreak, heat, and happily-ever-afters (with a side of caffeine addiction)? You can now support my writing directly! Every little boost helps fuel late-night plot twists, stronger coffee, and the drama you secretly crave. Thanks for being here, darling. You’re my favorite chapter. 🤍 — Kiara Gilbert
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