로그인Lyara:
Seven days since I handed Ethan Ashworth the video and walked out of Ashworth Villa without looking back. Seven days of pretending my hands didn’t shake every time my phone buzzed. Seven days of telling myself I made the right choice when I refused to go to the police station or meet Chairman Victor. He didn’t need me. I need this job. I need to stay invisible. The video is gone from my phone now. I’d transferred it to Ethan in the villa driveway. “Let me take you to the station,” Ethan had said, his ice-blue eyes locked on me like I might disappear. “The chairman would definitely want to thank you personally.” “I’m not the hero here,” I whispered, stepping back. “And I don’t want to be the scapegoat when this blows up.” He didn’t let it go. He tried. Please. Just your name. Just your contact. I refused. Every time. “Don’t look for me,” I told him finally, my voice cracking. “If they find me, they’ll find a way to pin it on me. I have a baby to protect.” Ethan stared at me for a long time. Then he nodded. Once. “Fine. But if you need anything—” “I don’t,” I cut him off. And I walked away. Never to be seen again by him or anything Ashworth. *** It was 11:42 am at 24/7 Corner Mart, and the AC was broken again. I was scanning a pack of gum when the bell above the door jingled. It was the sound of rich people. That heavy, expensive door that didn’t slam. I didn’t look up. “Card or cash?” I asked automatically, eyes on the register. The store went quiet. Too quiet. I risked a glance up, and my blood froze. A black Maybach was parked right in front of the glass doors, blocking the handicapped spot. The driver’s door opened, and Ethan stepped out. He looked out of place here like a diamond in a trash bin. Tailored grey suit. No tie. Sleeves rolled up just enough to show the watch that probably cost more than my annual earnings. His dark brown hair was messy like he’d been running his hands through it all morning. And those ice-blue eyes… They swept across the store like he was assessing a crime scene. Young girls by the snack aisle dropped their sodas. One of them actually squealed. “Is that… is that Ethan Ashworth?!” “The Ashworth Group CFO?!” “Why is he here?!” I ducked my head lower and focused on the customer in front of me. A college girl with pink hair and a Red Bull in her hand. “Card or cash?” I asked. She wasn’t listening. She was staring past me at Ethan like he was a celebrity. “Hey!” I snapped, a little harsher than I meant to. “Card or cash?” She blinked. “Oh. Card.” Ethan ignored everyone. He walked straight toward my register. “Excuse me, please.” The pink-haired girl stepped back without being told, her mouth hanging open. “Oh my God… he’s talking to me—” “No,” Ethan said, voice calm but cutting through the noise. “I need to speak with her.” He nodded at me. My chest tightened. He recognises me. I kept my eyes on the screen. He leaned against the counter. The scent of cedar and rain followed him. “It’s you. The one who recorded the video?” I forced a laugh. It sounded fake even to me. “I don’t know what video you’re talking about. I'm an attendant here. That’s it.” He didn’t blink. “Are you the one who saved my grandfather?” My hands froze over the card reader. Don’t answer. Don’t look up. He can’t prove anything. “No,” I said flatly. “Now, if you’re not buying anything, please step back so I can attend to the next customer.” His jaw tightened. “The old man wants to see you.” “I don’t care,” I shot back, finally looking up. My eyes were hard. “If the manager comes out and sees me talking instead of working, I’ll lose this job. And this job is the only thing keeping my baby and me alive right now. So please… go away.” For a second, something flashed in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? I didn’t wait to find out. He stepped back, phone already to his ear. “I tried.” The door chimed again as he walked out. I let out a breath. In less than a minute, the office door slammed open, and Manager Ruiz stormed out, tie loosened, face red. “Lyara!” He barked. “You ignoring customers now? That man looked like he was worth millions, and you just—” “I was trying to work—” I started. “Save it.” He cut me off, then turned to the store and raised his voice. “Everyone! Everything you buy today is on Ethan Ashworth!” The store erupted. Customers who’d been paying dropped their items and ran back to the shelves. A teenager grabbed three boxes of cereal. An old woman loaded her cart with bottled water. “Ethan Ashworth paid in advance!” Ruiz shouted again, smiling like he’d won the lottery. “Stock up! It’s free!” I stared at him. “You can’t just—” “I can, and I did,” he said, then his voice softened as he walked behind my counter. “Lyara, take a break. Go talk to him.” “What? No—” “He already transferred enough to cover your shift,” Ruiz said, gently pushing me toward the door. “I’ll run the register. You go. And Lyara… thank you.” I stopped. “For what?” Ruiz smiled, small and real for the first time. “For whatever you did to bring that man here. Sales have been down 30% this month. Today? We’re gonna break a record.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen lit up with a bank notification. [Deposit: $5,000. From: E. Ruiz. Memo: For your baby.] My eyes widened. Five thousand dollars. Ruiz saw my face and grinned. “Go. Before he changes his mind.” I swallowed hard. Anger. Confusion. And something else I didn’t want to name: relief. Five thousand dollars. That’s diapers. That’s prenatal vitamins. That’s two months of rent if I find a room. I nodded once and walked out without another word. Ethan was standing by the Maybach, phone still to his ear. When he saw me, he hung up and opened the passenger door for me. “I’m sorry I had to do it this way,” he said quietly. “It was urgent. I couldn’t think of another way to get you here.” I didn’t answer. I just walked around him and slid into the leather seat. The car smelled like money. The seat was warm. I was angry at him for cornering me. But my hands were shaking for a different reason now. Five thousand dollars. My baby would have a crib. A car seat. Actual baby clothes instead of the ones from the charity box. Ethan slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The car moved smoothly onto the street. I stared out the window, arms crossed. “Where are we going? It better not be Ashworth Villa.” “It’s not,” he said. “We’re going to MedStar Hospital.” I frowned. “Why? I don’t have an appointment—” “The chairman was diagnosed with stage four cancer three months ago,” he said, his voice low. “It’s in the final stage now. He has a few days left,” My heart stopped. “He’s been asking for you every day,” he continued. “Meeting you was his dying wish. That’s why I was so desperate.” The anger drained out of me like water. I stared at him, eyes wide. “Cancer… a few days?” He nodded. “He doesn’t have time, Lyara.” I looked down at my hands. They were trembling again. Not from fear this time. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know.” He opened his mouth, but I stopped him. “We should be at his side already. Drive faster.” He stepped on the gas. The hospital was thirty-five minutes away. Thirty-five minutes of silence. Thirty-five minutes of me trying not to think about what it meant to face a dying man. The car pulled into the hospital entrance. I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door handle. That’s when it hit me. A sharp, cramping pain in my lower abdomen. Like someone twisting a knife. “Ah—” The sound tore out of me before I could stop it. The world went blurry. The hospital entrance spun. “Lyara?” Ethan’s voice sounded far away. I reached for the door, but my legs gave out. I was falling— Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground. Ethan’s face was pale. Panic in his eyes. “Lyara!” He shouted, scooping me up into his arms. “Stay with me!” The pain was blinding now. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The baby. The baby. “Ethan…” I whispered, my vision fading. “The baby—” “I’ve got you,” he said, already running toward the hospital doors. “Don’t you dare close your eyes!”Claire:The knock came at 6:14 PM. I knew who it was before I even looked through the peephole. No one else knocked like that. Three short raps, then a pause, then one more. Like he was already expecting me to open the door before he finished, which I used to, but definitely not anymore.I stood in my kitchen with a mug of tea going cold in my hands and stared at the door for a long time. My apartment was quiet. The TV wasn’t on. The laundry was folded. For the first time in a while, there was nothing of his in this space. I opened the door anyway. Father stood in the hallway with a bouquet of white lilies and a bottle of wine and that smile; the one he used when he wanted something. “Claire,” he said, stepping in before I invited him. “Can we talk?”He didn’t wait for an answer. He walked to my small dining table and set the flowers down. He set the wine down next to them. He looked around like he was appraising the place. “It’s nice,” he said. “Small. But nice.” “Why are
Adrian:I hate the executive dining room.The tables are too big, the chairs are too quiet, and the silence costs something to sit in. It’s the kind of silence where you can hear your own mistakes echo back at you.So at 7:28 AM I was in the workers’ cafeteria at Facility A with a tray that had eggs, burnt toast, and coffee that tasted like it had been fighting all night. I slid into an empty spot at a long table between Marco from maintenance and Mrs. Alvarez, who has worked the line since I was in college and still calls me “mijo” when she thinks no one is listening.Marco looked at my tray, then at me. “You lost?” He asked, stirring sugar into his coffee. I took a bite of toast. It was dry. “Nope. Just hungry.” Mrs. Alvarez patted my arm. “Good. The food upstairs is for people who don’t want to talk to anyone.”For a few minutes it was just the sound of forks and the low hum of the morning shift starting up. Then Ben from line 3 leaned across the table. “You know,” he said,
Lyara:Three weeks since Drake’s arrest, and the air inside Ashworth Heights didn’t taste like panic anymore.I noticed it first on the production floor at 8:17 in the morning. I had come in early out of habit, the way you check a locked door three times even when you know it’s fine. The machines were humming. No one was running. No one had that tight, hunted look in their eyes. In the corner near the coffee station, two girls from accounting were laughing about something, and their laughter didn’t stop the second I walked by. That used to happen. My footsteps would hit the tile and every conversation would go quiet, like I was a storm warning.“Morning, Ms. Lyara.” James from line 2 said. He was holding a thermos in one hand and a wrench in the other. He smiled. Not the small, careful smile we used to trade. A real one, with lines at the corners of his eyes. “Morning, James,” I replied.I walked the length of the floor slowly. Departments were talking to each other instead of send
Lyara:The morning after Drake’s removal, the city didn’t feel like it was holding its breath anymore.I read the headlines on my way in. ‘Ashworth Heights Acts Decisively Amid Internal Sabotage.’ ‘President Lyara Ashworth Praised for Transparency.’ No smear pieces. No speculation. Just facts, and the fact that we had handled it.By the time I reached the executive floor, the share ticker was already climbing. Emma had coffee waiting. Heather had the production report open. Ethan was scrolling through investor emails. Adrian was sitting with his tablet, but he actually looked like he’d slept. “Briefing.” I said, and took my seat. Emma went first. “The internal investigation is closed,” she said. “No further evidence of sabotage. HR says morale is up 12% this week. People are talking again. In a good way.”Heather nodded. “Production is fully stable. Valmont’s replacement is shipping on time. Two suppliers who paused came back this morning. They cited our handling of the Drake sit
Lyara:I got to the company early. The building was quiet. No printers running. No early emails. Just the hum of the lights and the city waking up twenty-six floors below. Today would decide everything. Sometimes ago I would have walked in with my heart in my throat, angry and afraid and desperate to be believed. Today I carried one thing: protect Ashworth Heights. Ethan was waiting by my office. Adrian came in a minute later with a folder that was too thick. Emma had coffee for all of us. Heather was already checking the boardroom setup. We laid the evidence out one last time on my desk. Timeline. Print records. Distribution logs. The leaked proposal. Drake’s version with the unique detail circled in red.“There’s nothing to argue with,” Ethan said. He tapped the financial verification. “Not anymore.”Adrian nodded. “It’s clean.”I looked at all of them. “Then we don’t make any mistakes.”***By 8:50 the boardroom was filling. Directors took their seats. Some were curious. Some w
Drake Vance:I arrived at Ashworth Heights at 8:55 a.m. with the city still waking up below me.The doorman nodded. The elevator was empty. My briefcase felt lighter than it had in weeks.Ever since Lyara asked for my advice, everything had moved exactly as I wanted it to. Phillips was under a microscope. The executive team was following every suggestion I made. The company was fracturing in all the right places, quietly, politely, without anyone realizing who was holding the knife. I straightened my tie in the reflection of the glass doors. Today would be another step. Another push. ***The boardroom was already full when I walked in.Lyara stood by the window. Ethan was going through financials. Adrian was reading something with that thoughtful frown he always wore. Emma had folders stacked neatly. Heather was on her tablet.They looked up when I entered. “Director Vance,” Lyara said. Her voice was warm. “Thank you for coming on short notice.”“Of course,” I said. I took my usual
Lyara's POV.Ashworth Villa. Everyone in the city knew where it was. It wasn’t some fortress with armed guards and electric fences. It was an old two-story house with a wooden fence and a rose garden. Victor Ashworth lived there because he said he wanted to stay close to the people.But should I g
Lyara’s POV.The sun was too bright. 10:17 am, and the city was already burning with heat and noise. I sat on the curb across from the bus stop, phone clutched in my hand like it might disappear if I let go.Seven hours. Seven hours since I’d heard those two men behind the dumpster. Seven hours s
Time lapse: A month and a few days late.Lyara's POV.The fluorescent light above the 24/7 Corner Mart buzzed like an angry wasp. It was 3:03 am, and my feet already hurt. I adjusted the red vest over my second-hand hoodie, tucking the tag under so no one saw the frayed hem. The name tag said Li
Lyara’s POVI’d been on my feet since 3 pm, chopping, stirring, baking. My hands were raw from scrubbing the same spot on the counter for the third time. Five years of marriage, and I still tried to make everything perfect for him.Today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to be good.







