เข้าสู่ระบบJulian's POV
I stood in my office, watching Elena face me with her guards up like a wall of knives.
I was about to shut down her ridiculous ultimatum when her phone rang, cutting through the heavy silence between us.
She pulled out her screen, her eyes widening slightly when she read the caller ID. Before I could even ask who was reaching out to her at this hour, she lifted the phone to her ear and immediately walked away from me, heading toward the far corner of the room near the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She kept her back turned, deliberately putting distance between us. I stood frozen on the rug, watching her lower her voice into a muffled, private murmur. I couldn't make out a single word of what the person on the other end was saying, nor could I catch more than a faint, soft hum from Elena as she spoke into the mic.
"Is there an emergency?" I demanded, taking a step toward her. "Elena, who is that?"
She ignored me completely. She just raised a single finger behind her back, signaling me to wait while she spoke into the receiver.
"Yes, I understand," she whispered near the glass. Her tone wasn't sharp like it had been with me. It sounded almost gentle, relaxed, and guarded all at once. "No, it's fine. I'm wrapped up here anyway. I'll call you as soon as I leave."
Confusion morphed into an immediate, sharp paranoia.
In three years, Elena had never hidden a phone call from me. She ran my schedule, handled my network, and shared everything. Now, she was hunched over the glass skyline, her tone quiet and guarded in a way I had never heard before. Who could she possibly be talking to with that level of intimacy? An investor? A rival firm?
After a few brief seconds, she lowered the phone, tapped the screen, and turned back around to face me. The shift was brutal: whatever calm or softness she had just used with the caller vanished instantly, replaced by the same cold, unreadable mask she had worn since walking into my office.
Just like that, the heat of our argument evaporated, replaced by a sudden, sharp coldness in the room. Elena tucked her phone into her coat pocket and met my eyes, completely unbothered.
"If we're done here, that's the deal," she said plainly.
My mind was still stuck on the phone. "Who was that?"
"None of your concern, Julian."
"It is my concern," I snapped, stepping around my desk to close the distance. "You're standing in my office, on company time, taking private calls in the middle of a serious discussion about your contract."
"My contract is finished," she said softly. "And that call was private."
My brows pulled together, a tight knot forming in my chest. "I asked you who that was. Why is a man calling your personal line right now?"
Elena actually let out a dry, humorless laugh at my reaction.
"Have you forgotten what my job has been for the past three years, Julian?" She tilted her head, her voice dripping with quiet mockery. "I closed your deals, brought in your investors, and managed your network. My contacts are full of executives, board members, and clients. You never questioned who called me before."
"Because those were business calls, Elena! You didn't run into the corner to whisper to clients!" A hot spike of frustration hit my chest, and my jaw tightened.
She didn't answer. She just stood there, looking at me with those cold, steady eyes, offering nothing.
She wasn't wrong about her work. I knew how much effort she put into building Jenkins Holdings alongside me. But those were corporate contacts. Everyone in our circle knew she belonged to me, and Elena had never given any other man a second look. Her world had always revolved around my goals, my elevation, and my success.
This call felt completely different. Her body language had shifted the second she saw the screen. She had walked away from me to protect *him*, whoever he was. The thought ate at me like acid.
I pulled at my tie to loosen the sudden tightness around my throat, forcing my focus back to the main issue.
"Listen to me," I said, trying to regain my authority. "I'm not approving your resignation, Elena. Period. We have the quarterly review next week, and Marie's father is coming to inspect the department. I need you running operations, not hiding behind some emotional outburst."
"I already turned in the paperwork to Arthur," she replied, her voice flat and indifferent. "By company policy, my thirty days started today. The contract ends next month whether you like it or not."
"You think Arthur can sign off on your release without my signature?" I laughed bitterly. "I am the CEO of this firm! If I say you stay, you stay. I can void that submission with a single email."
"Go ahead and try," she said, her voice terrifyingly calm. "Void it. Fire me. Sue me for breach of contract. Do whatever you want, Julian. But I won't step foot in this building after my thirty days are up."
"Elena!" I stepped forward, slamming my hand down on the edge of the mahogany desk, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. "You don't get to make demands here! I made you! I gave you this position, I gave you authority over the entire operations floor, and this is how you repay me? By throwing a tantrum because I brought Marie onto the board?"
She didn't flinch. She didn't even blink at the sound of my hand striking the desk. She just looked at me like I was a stranger taking up her time.
"You didn't give me anything, Julian," she said softly. "I built this firm. I wrote your proposals. I fixed your mistakes before the board could see them. I let you take the credit because I thought we were building something together. And after all that, you kissed that fvcking b1tch like she was the most important thing in the world!"
She paused, taking a slow breath, her gaze cutting right through me.
"Now I see I was just working for a man who trades people away the second a bigger check comes along."
"That was strategy!" I yelled, taking another step toward her. "Marie's family controls thirty percent of the voting power on the board! I needed her father's backing to secure my seat! Can't you see past your own jealousy for five minutes to understand the bigger picture?"
"I don't care about your strategy anymore," she replied. "And I certainly don't care about Marie."
"If that's all, I have files to organize," she added quietly.
She didn't wait for my response. She turned on her heel and walked toward the heavy wooden door.
"Elena, sit down!" I commanded, my voice echoing off the glass walls. "We are not finished talking about this!"
She reached the door, pulled it open, and stepped into the hallway without looking back once. The door clicked shut, leaving behind a silence so absolute it felt heavy.
I stood alone in the middle of my office, my hands balling into tight fists at my sides. Anger, disbelief, and a strange, cold panic burned straight through me as I stared at the shut door.
*Resign? Walk out on me? She has to be out of her mind.*
For three years, Elena had backed every single move I made. She knew my habits, my schedule, my weaknesses, and my strengths better than anyone alive. She was tied to my life, my career, and this company. She couldn't just walk away from everything we built over a minor disagreement. She needed this company just as much as I needed her.
I walked over to my desk and picked up my phone, my thumb hovering over Arthur's contact info. I wanted to call HR right now and order him to scrap her file, but I stopped myself. If I pushed too hard right now, she would lock up completely. I needed to play this smart.
She was angry about Marie. She was hurt about the San Francisco transfer proposal. It was just an emotional reaction. Women like Elena, who had given years of their lives to a man, didn't just move on overnight. She was trying to scare me into begging her to stay.
I ground my teeth, watching the empty doorway, my chest tight with lingering anger.
Thirty days? No. Give it a week of dealing with real-world job hunting, give it a week of realizing she was nobody in this city without the Jenkins Holdings name behind her, and I would have her right back where she belonged.
Marie's POVThe blinding glare of flashbulbs hit the glass podium before I even reached it, bouncing off the polished mahogany like scattered shards of light.I took a breath through my nose, keeping my chin level, my spine rigid. The hum of forty reporters, camera operators, and financial journalists filled the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, a low, thrumming murmur of anticipation that vibrated straight through the soles of my heels.Behind me, sitting at the long executive table covered in midnight-blue felt, Julian was smoothing the front of his silk tie. He looked immaculate—the picture of a composed, confident CEO ready to reassure Wall Street that the loss of a single lead analyst hadn't shaken Jenkins Holdings. He thought this afternoon was about him. He thought this entire stage was built to showcase his resilience.He had no idea.I adjusted the small, wireless lapel microphone pinned to my cream jacket. The smooth metal felt cold against my fingertip. On the far side of
Elena's POVThe steam from the black mug rose in a thin, straight line, disappearing into the cold air of John’s kitchen. I held the ceramic with both hands, letting the heat sink into my palms until skin turned red.Behind me, the quiet rustle of paper towels broke the silence. John swept the leftover gauze and the strip of torn medical tape off the counter and tossed them into the stainless-steel trash can. The lid slammed shut with a sharp clack.Neither of us spoke. The air in the apartment felt heavy, thick with the shadow of what had happened out on the pavement hours ago—and the sudden, breathless shift between us right here in this room. My pulse was still beating against my ribs, fast and shallow. I could still feel the phantom pressure of his hand on the back of my neck, his thumb resting right over my pulse, stopping just short of everything we hadn't said.John leaned his back against the edge of the sink, crossing his arms over his chest. His knuckles were bruised, the sk
Marie's POVThe chill of the hotel corridor did nothing to cool the burn in my throat as I stepped off the service elevator and onto the mezzanine level.Below me, the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a sea of black suits, polished brass, and the cold, artificial glare of broadcast lighting. The low, rumbling hum of a hundred converging voices drifted upward—journalists adjusting their lenses, sound technicians shouting over the static of their headsets, and PR coordinators pacing the floor with clipboards clutched like shields against their chests.This was Jenkins Holdings on full display. Slick, untouchable, and suffocatingly corporate.I stood at the brass railing, my hands resting lightly on the cold metal. Beneath the tailored silk of my gloves, my nails bit sharply into my palms. Julian was probably still upstairs in the penthouse, staring out at the grey morning sky through a crystal glass, completely indifferent to the fact that I had packed my bags and walked out into t
John's POVThe rain started just as I turned the key in the ignition.It hit the windshield in heavy, scattered drops, blurring the tail lights of the quiet street ahead. Beside me, Elena was curled tightly against the passenger door, her wool coat drawn up around her neck like armor. Her eyes were fixed on the wet asphalt ahead, her breathing quiet, shallow, and completely out of rhythm.My right hand sat heavy on the gear shift. The knuckles were raw, split, and beginning to throb with a dull, steady ache, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was the lingering adrenaline humming through my veins like static.I had lost control back there on the pavement. Six months of professional distance, six months of standing three feet away from her behind mahogany desks and glass partitions, and I had nearly killed a man because his hand touched her door.I glanced over at her. Her face was pale in the green glow of the dashboard lights, her lips pressed into a hard, thin line. She was tryin
Elena's POVThe frantic, deafening thud of my own pulse was the only sound left in the world.For a long, suspended heartbeat, I couldn’t move. My fingers were locked so tightly into the dark fabric of John’s jacket that my knuckles ached. The rough wool felt like the only solid thing anchored to the pavement, the only truth left in a night that had completely unraveled. Every wall I had spent the last six months painstakingly constructing—every spreadsheet, every cold calculation, every emotional dead-bolt designed to keep the wreckage of my past at a safe distance—had just been blown wide open on a deserted stretch of concrete outside Plaza Tower.John’s chest was still heaving beneath my hands, rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths that matched the frantic rhythm of my own. Slowly, the blind, feral intensity that had driven him to tear across the asphalt began to recede, replaced by a heavy, trembling awareness.He didn't pull away.Instead, his hands slid slowly down from my
Elena's POVThe heavy glass doors of Plaza Tower hissed shut behind us, cutting off the hum of the central air and dropping us straight into the suffocating, humid weight of the city at midnight.My boots clicked against the concrete, the sound unnaturally sharp in the deserted plaza. My arms were wrapped tight around myself, holding my wool coat closed against a chill that wasn't actually in the air. Every nerve ending in my body felt raw, stripped bare by the quiet gravity of what had just happened on the twenty-fourth floor. He had touched my hand. He had closed my laptop. And for the first time in six months, I hadn't fought back with a spreadsheet or a razor-sharp counter-argument.I walked beside John toward his sedan parked near the curb, my mind racing in frantic, useless circles. This wasn't how the equation was supposed to run. We were partners. We were two fractured pieces of capital and intellect huddled together in an office, keeping the wolves at bay. We weren't supposed







