I still remember the exact moment my stomach dropped, that strange hollow feeling like gravity had briefly forgotten me.

My name is Nancy. I’m twenty-two years old, barely finished with school, clinging to this internship like a life raft because it’s supposed to be my bridge to something real. A future. Stability. And Raphael stands at the other end of that bridge.

He’s my boss.

Raphael is the kind of man who dominates a room without trying. Tall, broad-shouldered, always impeccably dressed. His shirts strain slightly at the seams, as if his body resents being contained. He’s in his forties, with a square jaw, a permanent crease between his brows,...