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Chapter 6 Co-Workers and Co-Conspirators

last update publish date: 2026-08-30 07:12:47

Khalia

A structural collapse doesn’t always happen with a loud explosion. Sometimes, it is a single, terrifying fracture in a load-bearing column.

Bea staring at Atasha’s collarbone was that fracture.

"Say something," Bea commanded, her voice dropping to a harsh, demanding whisper that echoed off the boardroom glass. She looked at me, her eyes blaring with a mix of shock and betrayal. "Khali. Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me you didn't leave that mark on her."

My brain fired through emergency protocols. Deny. Re-route. Mitigate.

"You're jumping to absurd conclusions, Bea," I said, my voice flat, empty of emotion. I finally let go of my briefcase handle and crossed my arms, forcing my posture into a defensive slate of stone. "Atasha’s personal life is her own. Who she spends her nights with has no correlation to my work or this firm."

"Oh, cut the corporate doublespeak!" Bea snapped, stepping away from Atasha and marching right up to my side of the table. "I’ve known you since we were scraping together pesos for drafting paper, Khali. I know your tells. You haven’t blinked in thirty seconds. And Tasha looks like she’s about to faint."

I cut my eyes toward Atasha. She had pulled her blazer tightly around herself, her face pale, her lips parted in a silent panic.

The sight of her looking so cornered sent a strange, protective surge through my chest—a direct violation of Clause 3.1.

"Bea, please," Atasha muttered, her voice trembling. "It’s not what you think."

"Then what is it?" Bea demanded, looking between us. "Because two years ago, you both went completely dark on each other. No explanations. Now you’re back, acting like bitter rivals by day, and apparently tearing each other’s clothes off by night? Are you guys secretly dating? Are you in a relationship?"

"No!" I said, the word slipping out sharper and faster than I intended.

The word hung in the air, cold and definitive. Atasha flinched beside me, a look of brief, sharp hurt crossing her features before she quickly masked it.

"We are not in a relationship," I clarified, forcing my voice back into its clinical register. "We are entirely incompatible in that regard. You know that."

"Then explain the mark, Khali," Bea said, crossing her arms, refusing to back down. "Because if you're using her, or if this is some twisted game that’s going to blow up our friendship and a multi-million-peso city project, I need to know."

Atasha

We are entirely incompatible in that regard.

Khalia’s words felt like a physical blow to my chest, even though I knew she was just trying to manage the crisis.

It was the brutal reality of our contract, stated aloud in the bright, unforgiving light of day. We weren't a couple. We were a transaction.

But looking at Bea’s furious, protective face, I knew a complete lie wouldn't save us. Bea was too smart.

If we denied it entirely, she would keep digging until she uncovered the existence of Project Delta and the G****e Doc that reduced our history to a set of clauses.

I took a deep breath, stepping forward and placing a hand on Bea’s arm. "Bea... stop. Just let me speak."

Bea looked at me, her expression softening slightly but still incredibly tense. "Tasha, what is this?"

"It's... a temporary arrangement," I said, choosing my words with extreme caution, admitting a partial, sanitized truth. I didn't look at Khalia. "We ran into each other a few weeks ago before the project was officially announced. The tension from... from how things ended two years ago was too much. We realized it was affecting our headspace."

"An arrangement?" Bea repeated, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. "What does that even mean?"

"It means we are adults with a mutual physical history," Khalia intervened, her voice seamless as she picked up my narrative line. She stepped closer, her presence backing me up. "We reached a mutual consensus that clearing the air—physically—would eliminate the lingering awkwardness and allow us to function as professionals on the Green Lung project. It is strictly casual. No strings. No emotions."

Bea stared at us like we were speaking a foreign language. She looked at me, then at Khalia, her mouth slightly open.

"You two... drafted a casual hookup deal? To fix your work dynamic?" Bea asked, her tone shifting from anger to absolute disbelief. "Are you insane? You're best friends! Or you were best friends! You can't just use sex as a professional calibration tool!"

"It works for us," I lied, forcing a confident, unbothered smile onto my face, though my heart was breaking a little more with every sentence. "It’s just to get it out of our systems, Bea. Once the project is done, we go our separate ways. No drama."

Bea looked at us for a long, agonizing moment. The silence in the boardroom was suffocating. Finally, she let out a long, exhausted sigh and rubbed her temples.

"You two are the smartest idiots I have ever met in my life," Bea muttered, picking up her budget sheets from the table. She walked toward the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. She turned back, her eyes deadly serious. "I won't tell Mark. But hear me out: emotions aren't like concrete, Khali. You can't control where they pour. And Tasha... don't let her analyze you into a corner again."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Khalia and me entirely alone in the massive room.

The silence that followed was deafening. I turned to look at Khalia, my hands shaking. The clinical structure had survived, but the foundation felt terrifyingly fragile.

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