Asher stood frozen in the center of the vast office, his chest heaving under the immaculate fabric of his shirt. He looked like a dangerous wolf cornered in his own territory, his eyes wild with a lethal, predatory instinct that screamed he could kill anyone who dared step in front of him.
The silence of the room was loud, vibrating with the echo of her parting words.
"How dare she," he breathed, the whisper more menacing than a shout.
The words tore through his throat, raw and jagged. You are absolutely no one to me. The phrase repeated in his mind, clawing at his pride, ripping through the absolute control he had spent a lifetime building. He, Asher Sinclair, the man who held her entire world in his hands, was no one.
A dark, unhinged roar broke from his lips. With a sudden, violent explosion of movement, his leg snapped forward, his boot connecting heavily with the solid glass-and-steel coffee table in front of him. The impact was deafening. The thick, reinforced glass shattered into a thousand glittering shards, spraying across the dark marble floor like a volley of miniature knives.
But the destruction did nothing to cool the fire burning in his veins. His gaze, laced with blind fury, locked onto a massive, antique ceramic flower vase standing near the window. He took a predatory step toward it, his muscles tense, ready to reduce it to dust.
The heavy oak door clicked open.
The sound was sharp, cutting through the wreckage of the room. Asher snapped his head around, his eyes flashing with a dangerous promise of violence as he prepared to tear apart whoever had dared interrupt him.
Instead, he met the calm, mocking gaze of Rowon.
Rowon stood in the doorway, hands lazily tucked into his trouser pockets. He looked down at the sea of shattered glass, then up at his brother's rigid, furious posture. A slow, infuriating smirk spread across his face.
"Well, I knew you left the mansion in a hurry, brother, but I didn't realize you were rushing to a demolition site,"
Rowon drawled, his voice dripping with pure, effortless sarcasm. "I thought you came to the office for something productive, but I see the Sinclair Group has expanded its portfolio into destruction contracts. Very innovative."
"Get out of my office. Right now," Asher commanded. The warning was low, vibrating with a lethal energy that suggested he was a single second away from wrapping his fingers around his brother's throat.
Rowon didn't flinch. Instead, he took a deliberate step inside, carefully stepping over a large piece of broken glass. "Why the hospitality, Asher? Is your own brother not welcome in your kingdom anymore?" He tilted his head, his smirk widening into a razor-sharp edge. "Or wait... is this exclusive entry only? Am I trespassing on a space reserved strictly for my new sister-in-law?"
"Shut the fuck up, Rowon!" Asher shouted.
The roar echoed off the walls, his hand slamming down onto the edge of his desk with enough force to rattle the remaining ornaments. He was on the absolute verge of throwing every single object in the room, his control completely fractured.
He stared at his brother, his breathing ragged, the betrayal and frustration of the morning choking him. "You all are the exact same," Asher spat, his voice dropping into a desperate, furious rasp, almost losing his words as the rage suffocated him. "Every single one of you. You think you can play with me. You think you can push me."
Rowon's smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, heavy sobriety. He looked at the wreckage of the room, then dead into his brother's tormented eyes.
"And you are no different, my brother," Rowon said softly.
The words were a quiet, grounding truth that cut straight through Asher's chaotic noise. Rowon didn't wait for a response. He turned on his heel, his shoes crunching slightly on the stray shards of glass, and walked out, letting the heavy door click shut behind him.
Asher was left alone in the ruins of his executive cabin, the silence returning like a heavy, suffocating weight.
The manic energy slowly drained from the room, leaving behind a cold, heavy stillness. The raw, animalistic fury in Asher's eyes began to solidify into something much worse—absolute calculation. The breath stopped hitching in his chest. His posture straightened, the chaotic storm in his mind freezing over into a smooth sheet of ice.
He didn't look at the shattered glass on the floor. He simply turned and walked back to his desk, his steps measured and rhythmic, before settling into his high-backed leather chair. He sat there, draped in the shadows of his massive office, looking every bit the ruthless king presiding over a ruined kingdom.
For a full minute, he didn't move. He didn't blink. He just stared into the empty space where Kaya had stood, letting the silence swallow the remnants of his rage.
Then, slowly, the corner of his lips pulled upward. It wasn't a smile of amusement; it was a sharp, dangerous baring of teeth.
"You're right, Rowon," he whispered into the empty room, his voice a low, terrifyingly calm purr. "I am no different."
A soft, dark chuckle escaped him. "How foolish of me. I almost forgot what blood runs through my veins. I am a Sinclair—born from the same den of monsters as the rest of them. How pathetic of me to stand here reacting like a fragile, emotional human."
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers smoothly intertwining over his chest. The bitter laugh grew louder, echoing off the concrete walls, cold and completely devoid of warmth.
"You've grown incredibly bold, Kaya Kapoor," he murmured, his gaze darkening to a pitch-black intensity. "You count yourself lucky that you are just a contract. A calculated necessity. Because you are not my love. God help you if you ever were. If I loved you, Kaya, I would tear your entire world apart just to ensure you couldn't breathe without me. I would destroy you. Being my asset is your only sanctuary; being my love would be your execution."
He chuckled again, a smooth, low sound that sent a chill through the quiet room.
"You want to push me? You want to see how much I can take? Fine. Go ahead and push, sweetheart. I will gladly let you do it. Consider this your one-time reward for three years of flawless service—I am giving you the permission to try and break me."
His smile widened, sharp and empty of any mercy.
"But remember this: when you push a monster, you only teach him exactly where you want him to strike back."
He reached down to the desk console, his long fingers pressing a separate line that connected directly to the building's internal maintenance crew.
"My cabin needs a complete sweep," he commanded smoothly, his voice entirely detached from the wreckage surrounding him. "Clear the glass. Replace the coffee table. Have it done before the ten o'clock briefing."
He cut the connection before the dispatcher could even acknowledge the order.
Asher pulled a sleek, gold-plated fountain pen from his breast pocket and unscrewed the cap with a slow, deliberate twist. He opened the leather-bound folder containing the morning's merger drafts, his movements fluid and entirely unbothered by the chaos of the room. The transition from a violent, unhinged beast back to the unyielding corporate tyrant was seamless—and infinitely more terrifying.
He leaned forward, the sharp nib of the pen hovering just above the signature line.
"Enjoy the illusion of your little rebellion, Kaya," he whispered to the empty room, a final, dark smirk gracing his lips as the heavy ink bled into the paper. "Let's see how hard you can push."