Click.
The door shut behind him, but his presence lingered like a shadow that refused to disappear.
Elna didn't move.
Not even when Arsey stepped in, holding a sleek tablet with glowing notifications blinking across the screen.
"Ma'am, Central's requesting an immediate signature on the resource transfer file," she said, tone as efficient as ever—but her eyes lingered longer than usual on Elna's face.
Elna forced a nod, her fingers curling slowly into fists. "Leave it on the table."
Arsey didn't ask. She never did. But as she placed the tablet down, she said, more softly, "You look... like you need a break."
Elna exhaled through her nose, not looking at her. "I'm fine."
A lie, bitter and useless.
As the door closed behind Arsey once more, silence swelled in the office like rising water. The overhead lights hummed faintly, but they were no comfort.
Elna stared at the reflection in her monitor.
Elna didn't move.
Her hands—still frozen on the desk—had turned cold. Her spine ached from holding tension for too long. Her eyes stared at the screen in front of her, but all she saw was him.
The way he looked at her.
The way he spoke her name like it was his secret.
And those words.
"Because your surrender… was always meant to be my masterpiece."
Her jaw clenched. A shiver crawled up her arms as she released the grip on the desk. Her fingertips burned with returning blood. She stood slowly, moving toward the window, her legs feeling like stone, her chest tight.
She pressed a hand to the glass.
Outside, the office moved like any normal day. People walked by, unaware of what had just happened behind the frosted walls. Of the man who had just walked out as though he hadn't rewritten the air she breathed.
She closed her eyes.
And then—
A flash.
FLASHBACKThe hallway was dim. A bar sign flickered red overhead like a warning she didn't heed. Her heels echoed sharply against cracked tiles as she turned the corner, searching through the haze of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.
She was angry. So angry. Her date was late again. Another promise broken. Another night spent waiting.
But then she saw him.
Neby.
Leaning against the far wall like he'd always been there. A drink in one hand, sleeves rolled up, collar loosened. And that smile. The same one he wore today.
He pushed off the wall and walked up to her like he had been waiting patiently for a long time for his prey to finally show up.
"You're early," he had said, voice silky.
"I didn't come for you," she snapped.
"You didn't have to, but fate makes better choices than we do."
He touched her arm.
She told him to leave.
He leaned closer.
She warned him again.
His breath touched her skin when he murmured—
"You're far too exquisite to be left waiting by someone who doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you."
She was too angry, and his complement made her lose her temper for a second. That was when she hit him.
Hard.
Right across the jaw.
And he—he smiled.
Not in pain. Not in shame.
He smiled like he'd just been kissed.
BACK TO PRESENT
Elna jerked away from the glass, her breath shallow.
He remembered every detail.
In the glass, it was her face—still hers. But stripped of command, stripped of calm.
He touched her. He made her remember—deliberately, surgically. Every moment from the bar. Every reason she'd punched him.
He'd planned this. From the date who never showed, to the sudden job transfer, to this moment right now—all of it.
Her hands shook.
Elna had always prided herself on control of her work, her emotions, and her narrative. But Neby had stepped in and rewritten the script without asking.
"If the walls you built ever come crashing down… you'll look around and find no one left to save you… Except me."
She bit her lip, hard.
No. She wouldn't let that happen.
She wouldn't become part of his fantasy, his masterpiece, his endgame.
But for one brief second—one devastating second—when he stood so close, when he spoke so softly, her heart had skipped.
Not in affection.
In recognition.
He wasn't just a man with power.
He was a man with memory.
He remembered her laughs. Her words. Her rage.
He'd turned it into fuel.
And now?
Now he was waiting.
Watching...
Willing to be the only one left in her ruin… if it meant he could own the wreckage.
Elna turned away from the window, reaching for the tablet Arsey left on her table. Her hand hesitated for a moment above it.
Then, with quiet precision, she signed.
The war had begun.
But not on his terms.