Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Silence hung heavy over Ethan Cross’s office after the daylight had faded through the tall windows.

The faint scent of paper mixed with the bitterness of cold coffee on his desk — a quiet testimony to the long, exhausting hours that had passed.

Olivia stood near the door, watching him, her worry growing with every heartbeat.

He hadn’t moved in minutes. His head was tilted forward in a way that looked… wrong.

She took a cautious step toward him, hesitating with each movement.

— “Sir?”

No reply.

Her blood froze. She reached out a trembling hand and touched his shoulder — it was strangely cold.

She gasped, fear gripping her chest, then rushed to the intercom, her voice shaking as she cried out softly:

— “Doctor! Quickly — to Mr. Cross’s office!”

Moments later, the doctor entered with calm, steady steps, a quiet seriousness shadowing his face.

He checked Ethan’s pulse and blood pressure, then lifted his gaze to Olivia and said reassuringly:

— “Don’t worry. It’s just severe exhaustion. He only needs rest.”

She exhaled in relief — mixed with guilt.

But the doctor added in a practical tone:

— “Help me move him to the couch. He shouldn’t stay slumped in that chair.”

She hesitated, then nodded shyly, her heart pounding.

The doctor lifted Ethan’s left shoulder and gestured for her to take the other side.

Olivia slipped her arms beneath his broad shoulder, bracing herself to carry part of his weight.

He was heavy — his warmth seeping into her skin, mingling with her unsteady breath, unsettling her even more.

The doctor murmured calmly,

— “Easy… step by step.”

They moved together. She trembled as she tried to keep his head from falling. Her fingers brushed through his dark hair, and for a fleeting moment, warmth spread through her fingertips.

Finally, he lay still on the leather couch. Olivia let out a long, shaky breath.

The doctor closed his bag with a faint smile.

— “He’ll recover soon. Just keep an eye on him — and don’t worry.”

Then he left quietly, leaving Olivia alone with a silent body and an absent soul.

She sat for a moment, watching him. He looked different in sleep — more human, less rigid.

His face, usually carved in control and authority, now seemed peaceful, stripped of its usual harshness.

She whispered softly,

— “If only you knew how to rest sometimes…”

After a while, she rose to tidy the desk — papers scattered everywhere from his fall.

She gathered the pens, organized the files, and pushed the chair back into place.

As her eyes passed over a crystal ornament gleaming on the desk, she stopped.

It was a finely crafted hourglass, clear as glass and glowing faintly under the light — a tiny, delicate star at the center of the room.

Drawn to it, she reached out to wipe a thin layer of dust from its surface.

But her hands were trembling, and the moment her fingers brushed against it— it slipped.

The sound of shattering glass split the silence like a sharp slap.

Olivia gasped, dropping to her knees, frantically gathering the tiny shards.

— “Oh God… no, no, no!”

Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly see through the tears that blurred her vision.

And then — she heard it.

A sound of breath behind her.

She froze. Slowly, she lifted her head, dread curling through her chest.

Ethan Cross was awake.

His eyes half-open, but the look he gave her was enough to drain every drop of blood from her veins.

His face was pale, but his voice — when it came — was low, sharp, and cutting like a blade:

— “What did you do?”

She gasped, her voice trembling as she tried to explain,

— “I was just… just cleaning the desk, I didn’t mean to — my hand slipped.”

She bent down again, hurriedly gathering the shards, breath quick and panicked.

— “I swear I’ll fix it, sir, please…”

But as she reached for a small piece, a shard sliced into her finger — a thin line of red blooming against her skin.

She winced softly,

— “Ah…”

Her eyes lifted to him, hoping for the slightest hint of concern — but he looked at her with an unbearable coldness, his expression unreadable.

His voice was calm, detached, almost emotionless:

— “Make sure it’s spotless.”

She froze for a second, then nodded silently, obediently, and kept cleaning.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she worked, but she didn’t bother to wipe it away.

When she finished, she placed the shards carefully in a small bag and dropped it into the trash, pressing a white tissue against her bleeding finger.

She walked toward the door, then hesitated, gathering her courage to whisper:

— “I’m sorry again, sir… I really didn’t mean to.”

He stayed silent for a moment, then lifted his eyes to her and said with icy calm:

— “There’s no need to apologize.”

She turned, a flicker of relief flashing through her — but it vanished instantly when he continued, his tone sharp and merciless:

— “Because your salary will be cut for two months.”

Her eyes widened in shock, her whole body freezing.

— “But… sir, that’s not fair!”

He rose slowly from the couch, adjusted his shirt collar, and looked straight at her — a look that hit like a slap.

— “One more word… and you’ll be fired instead.”

She swallowed hard, took two steps back, and hurried out, closing the door behind her in trembling haste.

Out in the long hallway, her breathing was uneven, her eyes burning with tears.

The sting of humiliation was worse than the pain — his words had carved themselves deep into her chest.

Lost in her thoughts, she collided with someone coming from the other direction.

— “I’m so sorry!” she murmured quickly, trying to steady herself.

But the woman she’d bumped into didn’t seem upset — she only gave a faint, superior smile and continued on her way with confident, graceful strides.

She was stunning — her golden hair flowing smoothly over her shoulders, her elegant clothes scented with an expensive perfume impossible to ignore.

Olivia didn’t give her much thought. All she wanted was to disappear from sight.

She hurried to the restroom, washed the blood from her finger, and stared at her reflection — pale, exhausted, eyes rimmed red from holding back tears.

She whispered bitterly,

— “Just one more day… I’ll be fine.”

After a few minutes, she returned to her desk, trying to compose herself. She sat down, pulled out some files — but before she could open them, she heard movement in the hall.

She looked up — and froze.

Ethan Cross was walking out of his office, calm and composed… and beside him was that same elegant woman.

The woman who had bumped into her just moments ago.

She was smiling at him, confident, charming — walking so close that there was barely any space between them.

Ethan’s face was unreadable, but he didn’t seem to mind her nearness.

Olivia stopped breathing for a moment, her gaze following them silently — confusion and disbelief swirling in her chest.

Who was that woman?

And why did she seem so… familiar with him?

She watched until they disappeared by the elevator, one question echoing in her mind like a relentless bell!!