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(Sloane's POV)The morning after the disastrous Schneider call, the apartment felt like a pressure cooker.I was back at the oak table, the surface polished so brightly it felt clinical. I didn't look at the door when it opened. I knew the rhythm of Leon’s stride.It was no longer the arrogant march of a man in control. It was heavy and hesitant.He didn't sit down. He stood by the edge of the table, his shadow stretching across my keyboard. I kept my eyes on the logistics report. My fingers moved with a steady, rhythmic pace."Sloane," he said.His voice was forced. It had that artificial smoothness he used when trying to close a deal he didn't believe in."I wanted to apologize for the tension yesterday. I know things got heated after the call."I didn't pause. The clicking of the keys was the only heartbeat in the room.He reached into his tailored blazer pocket. He pulled out a small, velvet box.It
(Sloane's POV)The silence that followed the end of the call was far worse than the silence that had preceded it. When the screen finally cut to black, the room felt like it had been emptied of oxygen. Leon didn’t move. He sat perfectly still, his hands still resting on the edge of the mahogany table, his knuckles white.The meeting had been a train wreck. Sarah had ended the call early, her voice dripping with professional disappointment, stating that they would "reconvene when the Sterling team was fully prepared." It was a polite way of saying he had looked incompetent.I didn't wait for his reaction. I closed my laptop with a soft click and began to stack my papers. I was calm. My heart wasn't racing. I felt a strange, hollow sense of peace."What was that?"Leon’s voice was low. It was the sound of a fire beginning to catch. I didn't answer. I reached for my highlighter and tucked it into my bag.
(Sloane POV)The high definition monitor in the center of the study glowed with a sterile, expectant blue. At exactly eleven o'clock, the interface chimed. It was a polite, sharp ping that signaled the arrival of the executive team. In the silence of the room, that sound felt like a starting gun.Leon sat to my left. His body was wound tight. His shoulders were hunched in a way that betrayed the cool indifference he had been trying to project all morning.He had spent the last hour pacing the length of the room. He threw dark, heavy glances my way while I worked in total silence. Every time he had opened his mouth to ask about the basic logistics, I had simply pointed to the corresponding page in the binder.I didn't offer a single syllable of clarification. I was a machine. Machines didn't offer verbal encouragement or small talk."Log on," Leon commanded. His voice was tight and brittle.I didn't look at
(Sloane's POV)The silence in the study was no longer the empty, hollow thing it had been for the past week. Today, it was a solid object. It sat between us on the mahogany table like a jagged piece of glass, making every movement feel dangerous.I had been at my station since 8:45 a.m. Precision was my only defense now. I had the folders aligned by the millimeter, my laptop charged, and my posture as rigid as a soldier’s.For nearly a decade, I had been the glue that held the Sterling brothers together. I was the one who organized their lives and anticipated the shifts in the wind before the boys could even feel the breeze.But today, I wasn't glue. I was a wall.I sat in the stagnant air of the apartment, listening to the muffled sounds of the world outside. Inside, I was focused only on the screen.I had spent years being the voice behind their brilliance. I was the girl who smoothed over their ro
(Sloane’s POV)I did not go to the hospital. I woke up on the sofa, the world tilting in slow, nauseating orbits every time I tried to fix my gaze on a single point. My head throbbed with a rhythmic, heavy heat, and my throat felt like it was lined with ash.I have been with the Sterling twins since their sophomore year of high school. For years, I have been the silent engine behind their success. I organized their lives and anticipated their needs before they even realized they had them. I was the person Nathaniel Sterling trusted to keep his sons on track. It was a role that required me to be invisible yet indispensable.But for the first time in my memory, I was the one lying down while the room moved around me.Kai was hovering. That was his way. He was the "good" twin, the one who led with empathy because it was the safest path through the Sterling minefield. He was pressing a cold, damp cloth to my forehe
(Sloane’s POV)Day seven arrived with a heavy, mocking brightness.The silence had moved past being a weapon. It was the very atmosphere of the apartment now. It was the air I breathed and the weight on my limbs that made moving feel like dragging myself through deep, freezing water.I wasn't trying to starve myself. I wasn't that poetic. But every time I sat down to eat, my throat felt like it was closing up. I had managed a bit of toast in the morning and a few bites of a protein bar at my desk, but nothing stayed with me. My body felt light and hollow, like a battery that was holding a five percent charge and desperately trying not to shut down.I could feel it in the way my silk gown draped off my shoulders. It didn't hang perfectly anymore; it just looked heavy. My pulse was a thin, thready beat in my neck that seemed to skip every few seconds whenever I heard a door move in the apartment.The Fellowship Ga







