Alex looked up as his assistant spoke.
"Sir, ma'am said she'll have dinner later. She's still working."
Alex gave a small nod. "Hmm… alright."
He took another bite, his eyes briefly flickering toward the clock.
Fifteen minutes later, he was done.
He stood up, adjusting his sleeves slightly.
For a second, his gaze lifted—
toward the stairs.
Toward her room.
Then he looked away.
"It's getting late," he said casually, though his tone held a slight pause.
"Go check on her. Ask if she wants dinner in her room."
The assistant nodded. "Sure, sir."
Alex turned and walked upstairs, heading toward his own room.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it softly behind him.
The quiet returned.
He sat down on the edge of his bed.
For a moment, he just stared ahead.
Then—
his thoughts drifted again.
Why is she still working?
His brows furrowed slightly.
What could be so important?
He exhaled quietly, leaning back a little.
Why am I even thinking about this…?
Meanwhile—
the assistant stood outside Veronica's door.
He knocked once.
Then again.
"Ma'am?"
No response.
He frowned slightly.
After a brief hesitation, he used the spare key and opened the door carefully.
Inside—
Veronica sat at her desk.
Her head rested against her arm on desk, the laptop still open in front of her.
She had fallen asleep.
For a moment, the assistant just stood there.
Then he stepped closer.
A little surprised.
She looked… different like this.
Calm.
Soft.
Her lashes rested lightly against her cheeks, lips slightly parted as she slept.
He hesitated before reaching out, gently tapping her arm.
"Ma'am…?"
No response.
His expression softens.
"She must be really tired…"
His gaze lingered for a second longer than it should have.
The assistant stepped closer, his eyes settling on her.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Then—
his gaze slowly drifted.
To her face.
To her slightly parted lips.
He lifted his gaze up again at her closed eyes.
Slowly, he leaned a little closer—
almost instinctively—
as if to move a loose strand of her hair.
"Hey, Veronica ma'am…"
Still nothing.
His hand lifted slightly—
just about to touch her—
"What are you doing?"
The voice cut through the silence.
Sharp.
Cold.
From the doorway.