The sound came like a slap to silence. A loud crash, just like flesh against tile.
Matthew stopped mid-sentence. "It seems like somewhere in the office hallway, something had fallen. No…wait—someone? Did you hear that…Cassian?" "Yeah…but who's there!" He turned toward the door. The sound echoed in his ears like an omen. A chill ran down his spine, his steps quickened, crossing the marble-floored corridor like a man chasing instinct. And then- they saw her. "Oh God… It's Miss Marlowe!" She was lying on the floor, her figure curled in on itself, one hand gripping the side of her belly as if protecting something more precious than her own life. Her other hand was sprawled beside her like a fallen petal. Her eyes were closed. Her skin, paper-white. "Miss Marlowe!" His voice cut through the silence, firm and precise. He stepped forward immediately, lowering himself to assess the situation. She was unconscious, collapsed near the hallway wall. No visible injuries, but her breathing was unsteady. Cassian pressed two fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was weak, but present. He scanned her face, then looked over his shoulder. "Someone get medical assistance… now," he ordered, his tone clipped and direct. "And alert the security." There was a moment of stunned hesitation in the hallway. "What are you waiting for?" he snapped, eyes narrowing, "Move." He straightened and motioned to someone nearby. "You—call for an ambulance. Make sure security guides them straight up here. Do it fast, hurry up." Without another word, he lifted her with clinical precision. Cassian didn't stop, he didn't glance back. He walked with precision, his steps seemed like measured, the weight in his arms not disrupting his pace or focus. His expression remained unreadable. This wasn't an emotional response, it was a necessary action under urgent circumstances. It wasn't personal, It was protocol and he executed it without any hesitation. Later… In the Hospital- White light burned overhead. A rhythmic beep echoed in the stillness. Antiseptic wrapped the air in something cold and clinical. Elena's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the sterile white light. A dull ache throbbed at her temples. Her gaze darted around in confusion, until she noticed the IV in her arm. Panic surged, her hands flew instinctively to her stomach. "Easy now girl," a gentle voice soothed beside her. "The baby is alright. You just fainted from stress and a bit of dehydration." A tear traced down her cheek, silent and unstoppable. I didn't lose you… she thought, pressing a trembling hand to her stomach. Please stay with me. You know I'm not ready, but I'll try my best. I swear I'll try. Outside in the hospital room, Cassian stood with arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The sterile white hallway buzzed faintly under the fluorescent lights, but his attention was focused solely on the closed door ahead. Beside him, Matthew scrolled through emails on his phone, impatience creeping into his posture. "Any update?" he asked without looking up. "She's awake," Cassian said quietly. "A nurse went in." Matthew exhaled sharply. "Well… Listen, I've got that client call in ten minutes," he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I should head out now." Cassian nodded once. "Okay then… Go ahead. I'll stay here to follow up. It happened on our premises and now it's a company concern...So!" Matthew glanced at him. "Sure. Just... keep me in the loop?" Cassian gave a terse nod, eyes still fixed on the door. Matthew left with brisk steps, his polished shoes echoing down the hallway. Silence returns. Cassian stayed rooted, not entirely sure why. He stood just outside the hospital room, the sterile white light flickering above him as the hallway emptied into a hush. For once, there was no one at his side, no phone in his hand, no noise to distract him from his own thoughts. He leaned against the cold wall, arms folded, and let out a slow breath. Hospitals always brought back the past. And tonight… something else had clawed its way back too. That night and that woman… He'd told himself it didn't mean anything. It's just for one night. One mistake or one soft, wordless connection forged between two strangers in the dark room. She hadn't asked for his name, and he hadn't asked for hers. It was supposed to end the moment sunlight cracked through the blinds. But it hadn't, not in his mind. Even now, months later, her face remained a blur inside the mask, it seems like something from a dream he couldn't quite wake up from. He remembered the curve of her shoulders, the way her breath hitched when he touched her, the faint trembling in her fingertips like she was breaking even as she reached for him. There had been pain in her silence. And something else too… like she was trying to forget someone, or maybe herself. He never meant to leave her without a trace. But she hadn't stopped him either, that's also for her the one night stand thing. It had been mutual. Which is clean and uncomplicated. Or so he'd thought. A few moments later, the door opened and a doctor stepped out, almost in his mid-fifties, coat pocket full of pens, and the calm demeanor of someone who'd delivered a thousand diagnoses before lunch. "Mr. Wolfe?" he asked. "Yes," Cassian replied, instantly attentive. "Doctor, is everything okay..?" The doctor offered a faint smile. "Yeah.. She's stable now. Slight dehydration, elevated cortisol, but nothing too alarming. Just make sure that she needs rest and a low-stress environment." Cassian nodded. "Understood." The doctor flipped a page on his clipboard, then looked up. "Luckily... The baby is unharmed, both of them are fine." Cassian blinked. "…I'm sorry?" The doctor tilted his head slightly. "The fetus is developing normally. No signs of complications. She's lucky she got here when she did." But the tension in his shoulders gave him away. His lips parted as if to speak, then closed again. And in that silence, his gaze met hers questioning, stunned, and utterly unreadable.The sunlight slanted through the hospital blinds in sharp, unforgiving stripes, casting long bars of gold across the pale-blue sheets. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burnt toast drifting in from the hallway. Breakfast being served to someone who hadn't just fainted. The world outside the window moved on...cars honking, a nurse laughing softly down the corridor, as if everything was normal. But normal wasn't something Elena Marlowe could touch anymore. Not after waking up to the prick of an IV in her arm, the dry ache in her throat, and a doctor gently saying, "You just fainted. The baby is fine." Elena pressed a hand gently to her lower belly, a silent, protective gesture she barely noticed anymore. As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, a gust of recycled, too-cold air brushed past her. She stepped out, heels clicking against the polished office tiles where the step sounded louder than the last, like a slow drumbeat
The sound came like a slap to silence. A loud crash, just like flesh against tile. Matthew stopped mid-sentence. "It seems like somewhere in the office hallway, something had fallen. No…wait—someone? Did you hear that…Cassian?" "Yeah…but who's there!" He turned toward the door. The sound echoed in his ears like an omen. A chill ran down his spine, his steps quickened, crossing the marble-floored corridor like a man chasing instinct. And then- they saw her. "Oh God… It's Miss Marlowe!" She was lying on the floor, her figure curled in on itself, one hand gripping the side of her belly as if protecting something more precious than her own life. Her other hand was sprawled beside her like a fallen petal. Her eyes were closed. Her skin, paper-white. "Miss Marlowe!" His voice cut through the silence, firm and precise. He stepped forward immediately, lowering himself to assess the situation. She was unconscious, collapsed near the hallway wall. No visible injurie
Elena's pulse thundered in her ears. Cassian Wolfe, that was his name. The man who unknowingly turned her world upside down. And now, he was going to be her new boss. This couldn't be real. She had spent months dreaming of him, hating herself for remembering his touch, cursing the night she let herself go. And now? He was here. Her boss...! The father of her unborn child. And he had no idea about that. Cassian stood by the window, city lights casting sharp angles across his face. His voice was calm—too calm. "Your resume is solid, Miss Marlowe," he said, not turning around. "You've worked in environments far more demanding than ours. You handle pressure, you're discreet… and frankly, you're overqualified for most of the roles downstairs." Elena clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "Then why me?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended, "why not anyone else?" He finally turned, his eyes meeting hers. There was something unreadable there, tension masked as control.
She felt it before she saw it, the weight of his gaze, steady and unflinching. Not like the casual glance of a stranger. It was like something heavier than that. Which is sharper or something that going personal. When she finally turned, there he was. Exactly the same place, where she knew that he would be. He still watching her, it seems like he's not just looking, but continuously watching her. Like he could see past the gown, the mask, which carefully arranged the calm. Like he wasn't just seeing her tonight but seeing everything she would been trying to hide for years. The version of her that even she didn't want to face, or the cracks. And yet… he didn't flinch for a second. He didn't look away. It seems like her chaos didn't scare him. As if it called to him. And that? That was more dangerous than any sweet lie he could've spoken aloud. As if the music had faded, the chatter had died, and the entire room had quietly disappeared… Except for her. Like she was the only
Elena Marlowe froze. Her breath hitched as her eyes met the mirrorand for a split second, she didn't recognize the woman staring back."Who was she?" This hollow-eyed stranger with perfectly lined lips and a smile that didn't quite reach? Not the girl she used to be, who was hopeful, soft and a little bit naive. Not the woman she tried to become like... Polished, composed or like someone who are easy to love. Because now, she just… feel empty and tired. She's looking beautiful... maybe, but not alive. She tilted her head, searching for something, who familiar in that reflection. But all she saw was the weight of pretending. And God, wasn't it heavy? She blinked once, slowly. Maybe tonight wasn't about becoming someone new. Maybe it was just about finally facing who she'd become. The crimson gown hugged her like it belonged to someone else. Clinging to every curve like a second skin, which is elegant, unapologetic, far too expensive for a woman who used to survive on mi