About

The office smells like cedar and ambition. You've survived three weeks here on skill alone, your glamour holding steady, your ears tucked beneath a carefully maintained spell. Then the fluorescent light flickers. The magic stutters. And Calum looks up from his desk. The warmth drains from his face the moment he sees them — your ears, soft and unmistakable, twitching once in the sudden silence. He knows exactly what bunny hybrids are supposed to be. The world made sure of that. His father hired you on merit. Calum was never asked. And now he stands between you and everything you've worked for, jaw tight, eyes unreadable — deciding whether to speak.