Adrian's POV
The door opened, and I assumed it was her. I didn't look up; my attention stayed on the document in front of me, my pen moving steadily across the page.
Then a voice came in, one I hadn't heard in a while. "Life must be sweet for you."
My pen stopped. I recognized that voice immediately. Slowly, I raised my head and let the pen fall from my fingers onto the desk. Victor stood there, already walking further into the office as if he were invited in, maintaining that same confident posture and that irritating calm.
"I see you've moved on," he added, glancing around the office before his eyes settled back on me.
"What are you doing here, Victor?" My voice remained controlled, but the tension was.
He gave a short laugh. "What? I'm not allowed to be here?" He didn't wait for an answer. He walked closer and stopped right in front of my desk. "I heard you're getting remarried."
I leaned back slightly in my chair, keeping my expression steady. "Is that why you are here?"
That seemed to irritate him. His jaw tightened as he stepped closer. "You cannot remarry. You do not deserve happiness. Not after what you did."
I exhaled slowly, already feeling my patience thin. "Victor."
"You don't get to say my name like that," he snapped. "How can you even think about moving on after her?"
"Stop. Just stop, please. I'm having a bad day already. Don't add to it."
Victor let out a cold scoff. "To hell with your feelings. Do I look like I care?"
His voice dropped, sharper now. "She could have been happy with me. I would have taken care of her. Protected her. It's all your fault."
My fingers curled into a fist.
"You killed her!"
Silence filled the room. Something inside me snapped. I stood abruptly, my hands pressing hard against the desk. "Yes, I did!"
The words came out louder than I intended, but I didn't stop.
"Yes, I killed her. That's what you want to hear, right? I admit it. You think I don't know that? I live with it every single day!"
My voice rose further. "Every day is hell. Every single day I regret it. So don't stand there and act like you understand anything about what I'm carrying."
Victor clapped slowly, his expression twisted into a mocking one. "What a speech." He leaned in slightly. "No. This doesn't look like hell yet. I'll make sure it becomes one. You will regret taking her away from me. I promise you that."
He turned sharply and walked out without another word. The door shut behind him.
***
Elena's POV
I stood outside the office, still trying to process what I had just heard. Something about someone being killed. It didn't make sense.
Before I could think further, the door opened, and a man stepped out. I recognized him instantly—he was the same man from the interview, the one who had looked at me like I was something he could take if he wanted.
His eyes met mine. "You!"
His gaze shifted briefly toward the boss's office door, then back to me. "Are you working for him?"
I didn't answer.
His eyes moved over me slowly, from my face down to my body and back up again. "You're still pretty," he said, his tone lower now. "Even more than before."
He took a step closer.
"Stop right there," I said firmly. "Don't come any closer."
He ignored me. "Come work for me. I'll pay you triple whatever he's paying you."
He reached out, his hand moving toward my face.
I didn't move back this time. "You should know something," I said calmly. "I'm very good with my hands, and you can definitely testify from experience." I pointed at his cheek.
His hand paused mid-air.
"I don't like being touched without my consent. I already made that clear once."
He smiled slowly and dropped his hand. "Feisty," he said. "I like that."
He took a step back. "Think about my offer, Buttercup."
Then he turned and walked toward the elevator, stepping in and disappearing as the doors closed.
I stood there for a moment before turning toward Adrian's office. I hesitated, then knocked.
No response.
After a few seconds, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. His back was turned, standing near the glass wall, looking out at the city below.
"Sir… this is the file you asked—"
"Drop it." His voice came out cold. "You can leave. Don't enter my office unless I call for you."
I swallowed and placed the file on the table. "Alright, sir." I turned and left quietly.
Back at my desk, I glanced through the glass, trying to see if he had moved. He hadn't.
I kept watching.
A moment later, the blinds came down from inside, and the view disappeared completely.
By evening, the office had quieted down. I checked the time and saw it was already 6:30 PM. Clock-out time had passed, yet he still hadn't come out of his office.
I remained seated, unsure whether to leave. Something felt off, and I could not ignore it.
By 7:30 PM, there was still no movement from his office. Then suddenly, I heard something fall.
My chair pushed back immediately as I stood and rushed toward the office.
I opened the door. The smell of alcohol hit me first. He was there, unsteady on his feet, swaying slightly. An empty whiskey bottle sat on the table.
"Boss…" I moved quickly toward him.
"Hey..." he muttered, his focus wavering. "You're here."
I supported him before he could lose his balance and guided him to the sofa.
"Sit down." He did so slowly.
I poured a glass of water from the side and handed it to him.
"Drink this."
He took it and drank without arguing. Once he was finished, I collected the glass and set it aside, then looked back at the table.
"Where did he even get this from…" I muttered.
My eyes moved across the room and stopped at a small minibar in the corner.
"Oh… there."
I turned back to him. He was still sitting, his shirt partially open, the top buttons undone. His head tilted slightly back against the sofa.
He looked… different.
His face carried a quiet heaviness, softened by exhaustion and alcohol. His head rested against the sofa, exposing the line of his jaw, and his features had relaxed in a way I had not seen before.
His brows sat lower than usual—well-defined. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, as if he had drifted somewhere between sleep and awareness. His skin had a faint warmth to it, not sharp or guarded as it usually was.
Then my attention settled on his lips.
They were slightly parted, natural and unguarded. There was a certain stillness in the way they rested, something almost disarming about how different he looked without his usual control.
My eyes lingered longer than they should have.
I swallowed.
Then I pulled myself back to reality.
I needed to call the driver and arrange for him to be taken home. I turned to leave.
Before I could take a step, a hand caught my wrist. I lost my balance and fell forward, landing right in his lap.
I gasped.
His hand came up to touch my face, his fingers resting against my cheek, slow and absent-minded.
"Alice…"
The name slipped softly from his lips.