Elena rose slowly, her every movement is deliberate and controlled as like she standing too fast might cause her to unravel. Her legs held firm, but her chest was wound tight, the pressure coiled just beneath her ribs like a breath she couldn't fully take.
She turned to leave, willing her spine to stay straight, her steps to stay calm. And then—his voice stopped her. His voice is quieter this time. Not cold or commanding. It's almost… I'm hesitant. "You should drink more water." She froze. Just for a second. Of all the things he could've said. "Not I'm sorry or Not Are you okay? Just a half-hearted reminder, wrapped in concern he couldn't or he wouldn't name. She paused in the doorway, her fingers grazing the frame as if the wood might steady her. His words echoed behind her which made the moment soft, strange or out of place. She blinked once, brows lifting in quiet surprise. Slowly, she turned, just enough to meet his eyes over her shoulder. "That wasn't also in the HR manual," she said with calm on the surface, but there was an edge there. Like something dry, and almost sharp. After that... A beat passed. The kind of silence that hung in the air a second too long. She hadn't planned to say it, not really. But the words slipped out before she could stop them which is quiet, tight, laced with something between fatigue and something dangerously close to honesty. Why did she always do that? Say too much when she was trying to say nothing at all. But maybe she was tired of walking on eggshells. Tired of acting like this was just business. Tired of pretending she wasn't falling apart in perfectly ironed clothes. Her hand tightened slightly at her side, knuckles brushing the fabric of her coat as she turned away—again. This time, she didn't wait for his response. She didn't think she could survive hearing one. If he wanted to pretend this was just protocol, then it's fine for her. But even his concern sounded like an accident. Her gaze held his, just a second longer than was polite, longer than was safe. There was something unspoken in her eyes. Not accusation, or any kind of submission either. And then she turned again, this time without any hesitation, or without looking back. The soft click of her heels faded down the hallway. Cassian's jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly. Just a flicker of muscle along his cheek. But it was there. He didn't call her back, or didn't explain himself. He just stood there, staring at the door like it had taken something with it when it closed. She's changed, he thought. No... She's changing. And he hated the way he noticed her, hated how it mattered to him slowly. Because Elena Marlowe wasn't supposed to matter. Not like this... But she did, and that terrified him more than he cared to admit. Because control was easy—until her. Until the woman who walked into his life with silence and secrets, and now stood in his thoughts like a fault line he couldn't ignore. She left. Just like that. No parting glance or any final word. Only the soft retreat of her footsteps and the distant sound of the office swallowing her whole. Cassian remained still, eyes fixed on the door she'd just walked through. Let her go...That would've been the logical thing, which is professional. But logic didn't explain why her absence felt louder than her presence ever did. And professionalism had never prepared him for her. The rest of the day passed in a fog. Elena buried herself in spreadsheets, emails, and supply chain reviews, anything to tether herself back to reality. But her thoughts kept drifting. It was his voice. The way it dropped barely, but enough to make her heart stutter. The way his eyes shifted when he said, "You could've been seriously hurt, Miss Marlowe." It's not like that where a CEO reprimands a liability for his employee or not like a man protecting his company's clean image. No... It's not like that, there had been something else. There is something which is quieter and rougher around the edges. Almost... It just sounds personal. She tried not to read into it. Tried to file it away with all the other things she'd learned not to hope for. But at that stage she failed. Because for one fragile second, it hadn't felt like she was just another employee. It had felt like she mattered for him, and that scared her more than she'd ever admit. That evening, the building had mostly emptied. Desks sat in hushed rows like soldiers at ease, monitors dark, swivel chairs turned slightly askew evidence of people who had already moved on with their night. The overhead lights had dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of emergency strips along the floor and a faint hum from somewhere behind the walls. Silence wrapped around everything like a curtain gently falling, not heavy, not loud, it's just like the final. Cassian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his office, the cityscape twinkling beyond the glass. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top two buttons undone. He hadn't touched a single document since the meeting. Her face kept appearing in his mind which is pale, proud, and exhausted. That fire behind her eyes. That edge in her voice. Something didn't sit right with him. Something he couldn't place. Then... A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He didn't turn. His voice came low and controlled. Almost too calm...."Yes?" Amelia stepped in, a folder in hand. "Sir, HR just forwarded this. Miss Marlowe officially logged her pregnancy in the system today. They've attached her updated employee health file for compliance." He finally looked at her, nodding once. "Leave it on the desk." She did, hesitating just briefly before exiting. Cassian stood there for a few moments, unmoving. Then slowly, he crossed the room and picked up the folder. He didn't open it right away. Instead, he held it in his hand... A thick paper, warm from Amelia's grip. His thumb tapped idly on the edge. There was no reason for his pulse to be elevated. No reason for his mind to wander to her again. But it did... Finally, he flipped it open. Just to confirm that protocol had been followed. There is nothing else. He scanned the first page which is standard intake details. Routine, on the surface. Next of kin : Left blank. Emergency contact : Not updated. His brow twitched. No major red flags or any kind of glaring issues. Just silence in the spaces where connection should've been. It was too clean and also empty. No one to call or no one she trusted enough to list. He flipped the page, slower this time, like the truth might be hiding between the lines. Then he saw her signature, dated today. For some reason, that made him pause. His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. Then he shut the folder and set it aside, jaw tightening again. --- Across the town, Elena sat curled up on her couch, a blanket around her shoulders and a mug of lukewarm tea cradled in her hands. The apartment was quiet. She stared at the muted TV screen, where she was not really watching. The headlines flickered without meaning. Her hand drifted to her belly. A small sigh escaped her lips. She wasn't used to being this tired all the time. Or this... this is emotional. Everything felt too close to the surface lately. And still, somehow, Cassian Wolfe managed to get under her skin with just a glance. She hated that he could. Back in his office, Cassian stood once more by the window. One hand in his pocket, the other resting on the edge of his desk. The city below buzzed with life. But all he could see was a woman with too many secrets and her eyes that haunted him longer than they should. He didn't know why he cared. And yet... His gaze dropped to the closed folder again. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was something. He wasn't sure yet. But for the first time in a long while, Cassian Wolfe didn't feel entirely in control. And that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.The next morning, Elena walked into the Wolfe Corporation building with her head held high and her heart hidden beneath a mask she'd perfected long before today. Not a single strand of hair out of place. Not a single emotion out of line. Her heels clicked against the polished marble, sharp and steady where each step echoing louder than the quiet thrum building in her chest. The air in the office was crisp with tension. Whispers traveled like electric currents across the cubicles. A few lingering glances shot her way, and although no one said anything directly, the shift was palpable. It was as if the walls had learned how to gossip. She'd learned a long time ago...if you walked like you belonged, most people wouldn't question it. Even when your world was quietly falling apart. Elena adjusted the strap of her leather tote, fingers tightening just slightly more out of habit than needed. She didn't glance at the stares. Didn't acknowledge the whispers trailing behind he
Elena rose slowly, her every movement is deliberate and controlled as like she standing too fast might cause her to unravel. Her legs held firm, but her chest was wound tight, the pressure coiled just beneath her ribs like a breath she couldn't fully take. She turned to leave, willing her spine to stay straight, her steps to stay calm. And then—his voice stopped her. His voice is quieter this time. Not cold or commanding. It's almost… I'm hesitant. "You should drink more water." She froze. Just for a second. Of all the things he could've said. "Not I'm sorry or Not Are you okay? Just a half-hearted reminder, wrapped in concern he couldn't or he wouldn't name. She paused in the doorway, her fingers grazing the frame as if the wood might steady her. His words echoed behind her which made the moment soft, strange or out of place. She blinked once, brows lifting in quiet surprise. Slowly, she turned, just enough to meet his eyes over her shoulder. "That wasn't also in
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