All Chapters of He couldn't see my face, but fate never forgot mine: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Wren didn't flinch. He kept his hands flat against his leather portfolio, forcing his breathing to remain steady as Killian's words echoed through the quiet office. Certified thief. It was a heavy label, one designed to crush an applicant's confidence before they could even open their mouth."I am not a thief, Director Ashford," Wren said, his voice ringing crisp and clear through the shadows of the room. "And if you actually read past the automated warning banner on that screen, you would see that the firm never pressed charges. There was no trial. There is no criminal record."Killian leaned back, the leather of his executive chair groaning softly under his weight. He adjusted his thick, cheap backup glasses, the distorted lenses magnifying his cold brown eyes. "Because the firm wanted it kept quiet, Mr. Calloway. In the corporate sector, a quiet dismissal doesn't mean innocence. It means you were sloppy enough that they paid to cover up your mess.""It means I left," Wren shot back

Wren's fingers flew across the keyboard, his eyes straining against the complex columns of shipping logistics and overseas tax data. Killian hadn't been exaggerating about the workload. The sheer volume of numbers was enough to make a seasoned accountant's head spin, but Wren welcomed the distraction. It kept his mind off the physical weight of Kang's silver flash drive pressing against his thigh.At exactly 10:45 AM, the executive elevator chimed.Wren didn't look up immediately, but his muscles locked on instinct. Light, unhurried footsteps echoed across the marble lobby. They lacked the aggressive, heavy rhythm of Killian's stride."Well, look at this," a smooth, warm voice called out. "HR actually managed to find someone brave enough to sit in Kang's old chair."Wren smoothed his features into a professional mask and lifted his head. Corin Ashford was standing on the other side of the glass counter. He was dressed in a pristine light gray suit, a friendly, easygoing smile plastere

The double doors of the top-floor boardroom were solid mahogany, polished to a mirror shine that reflected the tense, rigid posture of the two men standing outside.Wren took a quiet, deep breath, smoothing down his navy lapels one last time. His heart was still doing a slow, heavy thud against his ribs from his encounter with Serena, but he forced his expressions into cold neutrality. He was holding the heavy leather cart containing the final legal briefs. Beside him, Killian adjusted his original black-framed glasses, his face completely unreadable."When we step inside, stay three paces behind my right shoulder," Killian murmured, his baritone voice low enough that it didn't carry down the corridor. "Do not speak unless I ask you a direct compliance question. If my stepmother directs a question at you, look at me before you answer.""Understood, sir," Wren said.Killian didn't wait. He pushed the heavy doors open and stepped into the room.The boardroom was an expansive, glass-wall

The skin where Killian's fingers gripped Wren's wrist felt like it was on fire.Wren stayed perfectly still, his breath shallow as he looked up into the billionaire's wide, intense brown eyes. For a second, the cold, impenetrable wall of the "Devil Heir" had completely cracked open. Killian looked vulnerable—almost desperate—as he stared at Wren like a drowning man who had finally found a pocket of air."Sir?" Wren whispered again, his eyes darting down to the tight lock on his wrist. "You're... you're hurting me a bit."The words seemed to snap a wire inside Killian's head. He blinked, the raw, dazed expression instantly freezing back into his usual stern mask. He let go of Wren's wrist so fast it felt like a rejection. He stepped back behind the heavy mahogany desk, his hand coming up to touch his left temple. The pain was gone. The heavy, blinding pulse that usually made him want to rip his own eyes out was entirely absent, replaced by a cool, unbelievable silence."Get out, Callow

The private dining room on the third floor was a claustrophobic vault of dark walnut paneling and heavy velvet drapes. A silver coffee service sat untouched on a long sideboard, the bitter scent of espresso mingling with the smell of old money and structural deceit.Baron Ashford sat at the head of the small table, cutting a piece of dry toast with surgical precision. To his right, Corin was leaning back, checking his luxury watch with an easy, unbothered posture.The heavy double doors swung open, and the relaxed atmosphere vanished.Killian walked in first, his long, dark charcoal coat sweeping past the chairs. Wren followed exactly three paces behind his right shoulder, clutching the thick blue compliance ledger against his chest like a shield.Corin looked up, his friendly brotherly smile instantly snapping into place, though his eyes darted to Wren for a fraction of a second. "Killian! You're exactly on time. Dad was just saying you might stay up on the top floor to dodge the leg