Chapter 4: Obsession and Curiosity

Control begins to slip when unexpected integrity refuses to bend.

Desmond

People assume darkness is my weakness. They are wrong.

The real weakness is doubt. And tonight, it sits across from me in the form of a rejected partnership contract.

I clench my fists, frustrated, trying not to dwell on it. It's late. I can tell from the humidity. The temperature has dropped slightly—the air conditioning adjusting to evening mode. The traffic outside slows, but here I am with no intention of leaving anytime soon. Most of my staff have gone home; their footsteps faded one by one an hour ago. But I remain because my work has just begun.

Furiously, I type on my laptop, suppressing the pain in my hands, trying to distract my mind from the failed proposal I received—a deal with Ardent Global Holdings. International. Ruthless. Selective. And their CEO thinks I am a liability. Not because my company lacks profit. Not because my strategies fail. But because I cannot see.

My jaw tightens. In five years, I have tripled revenue, expanded across three continents, closed deals men twice my age couldn’t negotiate. And yet—

“Optics matter,” my assistant says carefully, hesitantly.

Optics.

Just then, I hear footsteps—confident, unhurried. Gabriel. He doesn’t knock; he just enters.

“You’re still here,” he says, moving forward.

“I own the building.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He drops into the chair opposite me. I hear the leather shift under his weight.

“It’s past seven, Desmond.”

“And?”

“And normal humans go home.”

“I’m not normal then.”

“That’s the problem.”

Silence stretches between us.

He exhales.

“Lately, you’ve been pushing too hard.”

“I’m working, Gabriel.”

“No, you’re trying to prove something.”

My fingers hover over the keyboard.

“Ardent Global is hesitating,” I say evenly.

“Because of your blindness, it's obvious,” Gabriel replies bluntly. I appreciate that about him—he doesn’t sugarcoat.

“They think closing a deal with us will lead to loss,” he continues.

“They won’t,” I say calmly. “Not when profits speak.”

“Desmond…” His tone softens. “You’ve already built an empire. You don’t have to bleed for every new territory.”

“I don’t bleed.”

“You do. You just don’t let anyone see it.”

I scoff quietly.

“Is this the part where you tell me I need balance?”

“Yes.”

“I already have balance.”

“You have obsession.”

He leans forward; I feel the air shift, the sound of his clothes move.

“Your mother has been speaking with me.”

Of course she has.

“And?” I ask dryly.

“She thinks you need to settle down.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Gab is as close to my mother as I am—practically a brother, and she uses him to persuade me.

“You too?”

“I mean, she’s not wrong.”

“I’m not interested.”

“That’s what you said the last three times… this week.”

“Because the last time I dated someone, it didn’t end well.”

Trust is expensive. Vulnerability is worse than blindness. Loving the wrong person hurts more than darkness ever could.

Gabriel clicks his tongue.

“She loved the empire more than the man,” I finish quietly.

“You can’t punish future women for past mistakes.”

“I’m not punishing anyone.”

“You’re hiding.”

I don’t respond.

“You just haven’t met the right one.”

“I doubt I will anytime soon.”

“That’s because you’re scared to go out there. Come on, Desmond.”

I lean back slowly in my seat, adjusting my cufflinks.

“I am not afraid.”

“You are terrified,” he says lightly. “You hide it under contracts and profit margins.”

“I don’t take advice from a man who thinks commitment is optional.”

He laughs. “Fair. But think about it—yeah, it’ll make your mum happy.”

I hum, knowing very well that will be the last thing I do.

“Did you come here for something other than distracting me?” I ask.

“Oh yeah. I want to invite you to a rooftop bar. Good music. Better company,” he replies, tapping something against my desk playfully.

“Meaning terrible company.”

He chuckles. “You should come.”

“No.”

“I knew you’d say that,” he sighs.

“I don’t enjoy crowded spaces.”

“You don’t enjoy living.”

“That’s inaccurate.”

He stands. “Fine. Work yourself into an early grave.”

“I plan to outlive everyone.”

He moves toward the door, then pauses.

“Oh. Before I forget—you asked HR to halt the secretary selection process?”

“Yes.”

“So… approved someone already?”

“Yes.”

Gabriel goes quiet. “You chose someone?” he repeats slowly, shocked.

I nod curtly and dive back into work, still feeling his presence linger.

“Her résumé is strong,” I say. “Not exceptional. I’ve seen better.”

“You’re the strictest employer I know. You’ve rejected flawless résumés. Why her?”

Silence. I lean forward.

“Her voice,” I admit.

Gabriel laughs. “I’m serious.”

“It’s controlled, measured, but there’s strain beneath it.”

“Meaning?”

“She’s hiding something.”

“And that interests you?”

“Yes.”

He studies me—I can feel it.

“You’re risking efficiency over curiosity, Desmond.”

“I don’t take risks blindly.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“I will.”

“And if she’s trouble?”

“Then I’ll handle it.”

Gabriel exhales. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He opens the door. “Try not to work all night, Des.”

“I won’t.” A lie.

The city hums outside. I run my fingers over the edge of my desk. Sophia.

Her success in passing the test didn’t just surprise me—it left me utterly confused. She chose vulnerability over fear, precision over obedience.

The envelope… I heard it shift when she picked it up. Hesitant but controlled. Thousands of dollars just out of reach in front of a blind man. Most would fail silently. She didn’t. Accuracy and honesty. Everything I need.

Yet I can’t shake the feeling that whatever she’s hiding will greatly affect me. I can’t afford that.

So I’ll just have to beat her at her own game.