If anyone had ever truly protected her when she was still Katarina Quinn, it was her grandmother. But fate was cruel, and her grandmother had been the first to pass away. Niamh stared at the photo of them together, her eyes growing moist.
Suddenly, the quiet office was broken by a notification sound from her phone. Niamh casually picked it up, tapped open her messages, and her fingers froze.
Can we still be friends? The message was from Lana.
Niamh's already unsettled heart was thrown into turmoil once again. She placed her phone face down on the desk without replying. She had no idea what to say.
Night fell quietly.
"Nia, are you done with work? I know a great restaurant. Want to go grab a bite?" Elmer knocked and entered Niamh's office.
"No, thanks. I don't have much of an appetite... I think I'll just go home and make some noodles..." Niamh finished, forcing a strained smile.
Elmer's intuition told him something was bothering her, but she didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to be alone. His lips parted and closed, words left unspoken. "Alright then, we'll go another time... Drive safe, and text me when you get home."
Elmer's earnest instructions made Niamh chuckle despite herself. She wasn't a child. But she knew this was his way of showing he cared. Elmer was so gentle and considerate, so unlike Jonathan.
"How about we buy you a drink?"
Two men flanked her, one on each side. A woman alone in a bar was an easy target for this sort of thing. Niamh coolly sized them up. They were short, scrawny, and reeked of alcohol; clearly, they'd had plenty to drink already. She was already in a foul mood because of Lana. If these two dared to try anything, she'd be more than happy to use them as punching bags and beat the hell out of them.
Seeing Niamh remain silent, one of the men grew impatient and reached out to put his arm around her shoulder.
Just as Niamh was about to make her move, a figure appeared behind her. The next second, a sharp crack echoed as the man's wrist was twisted and broken.

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