Allyson's POV
Reagan dragged his fingers through his hair, every muscle in his body screaming tension. "I can't handle this anymore. Her condescending attitude, the constant pressure. I'm not some puppet you can keep winding up and watching perform the same damn routine. I'm done, Allyson."
"Reagan, wait—"
"You're either walking out with me right now, or you're staying. Choose."
My throat constricted. "Just hold on—let's take a break. Five minutes to cool off. We can tackle a different section later."
"No." His voice cut through the air like a blade. "You're not listening to me. I'm finished working on anything today. I need space. This whole circus—" he gestured frantically at the room around us, "—is suffocating me."
Before I could respond, he was already moving toward the door.
"Reagan!" I called out, lunging forward as panic clawed at my chest. He couldn't leave now. Not when we were this close to the presentation.
