The moment Damian walks away, my pulse stays trapped in my throat. The printed call log sits in front of me like a spotlight on everything I tried to hide. I stare at it for several seconds, unable to stop the trembling in my hands.
He knew. He knew the exact time. The exact duration. The blocked number.
I push back from my chair so fast that it scrapes loudly across the floor. A few coworkers glance over, startled, but I barely notice. I cross the open office in quick strides, ignoring the curious looks as I move toward Damian’s glass office.
Before I lose my nerve, I knock once and push inside.
He stands behind his desk, flipping through a folder. He does not look up until I speak.
“How did you see my call records?”
He lifts his gaze slowly. His eyes are unreadable at first, a poli
