The rest of Lina's day passed in a blur of forced, manic focus. She hid in the one place that had always been her sanctuary: the perfumery lab. Here, the world was reduced to its most elemental. There was no Daniel Viggo, no shattered porcelain, no sticky, sugary shame drying on her skin. There were only notes.
She didn't want to think about the horrible morning. The smell of flowers and spices was her escape from the memory of coffee and anger. She scrubbed her hands raw at the lab sink, but the memory of the heat seeping through her blouse felt tattooed onto her skin.
When it was finally time to go home, she almost ran out of the building. She jumped into a taxi, sank into the seat tired down to her bones, and mumbled, 'West Haven Apartments,' before slumping against the cool window. She watched the glittering, heartless skyline of Eldrida bleed into the more subdued, neon-drenched streets of her own neighborhood. Her reflection in the glass was a pale, tired ghost superimposed over the city. She felt hollowed out, a vessel filled with nothing but echoing embarrassment and a low, simmering rage.
The taxi pulled up in front of her building, a three-story structure of beige walls that seemed to sigh with the exhaustion of everyone living in it. She overpaid the driver, too tired to wait for change, and trudged up the stairs to 6B.
She paused at her door, key in hand. A sound. A faint, rhythmic shuffling from inside. Her heart did a stupid, hopeful little flip. There was only one person it could be.
She turned the key and pushed the door open.
The sight that greeted her made her breath catch. The tornado that had been her apartment—the clothes strewn across the floor, the haphazard pile of her mother's food containers, the general chaos of a life too busy to be lived—was gone. Every surface was clear. The floor was visible, even vacuumed. The few dishes in her sink were clean and drying on a rack. The bed was made, the pillows fluffed. The air even smelled different, tinged with the faint, clean scent of the lemon-scented polish Bella loved.
A wide, genuine smile spread across Lina's face for the first time that day. "The undeniable perk of having a ride-or-die best friend," she whispered to the silent, tidy room.
She dropped her bag by the door just as Bella emerged from the small kitchen, holding two glasses of red wine. Her best friend's face was a mirror of concern and relief.
"There she is," Bella said, her voice warm. "I was starting to think you'd moved into the office."
"Oh, Bella," Lina said, her voice full of emotion. "You didn't have to do all this."
"Yes, I did," Bella said, handing her a glass. "You sounded so sad on the phone. I wanted to help." She looked around the clean room. "And this place needed it."
Lina's smile faded a little. She remembered the deal they had made. Lina was supposed to get a business deal for Bella's working place. In return, Bella would help clean her messy apartment.
But a knot of guilt tightened in her stomach. She hadn't even gotten a chance to talk to Carter about it yet. Her morning had been completely derailed before she could even bring it up. Instead of a successful pitch, all she had was a terrible story about being humiliated. Bella had held up her end of the deal perfectly, and Lina had nothing to show for it.
But Bella wasn't asking. She was just smiling, happy to see Lina smiling. This made Lina feel even worse.
"I'm sorry, B, about—" Lina started, her voice soft with guilt. "I didn't get a chance to talk to Carter yet. My morning kind of… exploded before I could."
"Stop. We can talk later. First, food! I raided your mom's care package. That stew was gonna go bad if we didn't eat it tonight."
Of course she had. Bella, the human equivalent of a practical, warm blanket, was just like her mother. Couldn't stand to see good food go to waste, couldn't stand to see a friend in pain. Lina felt a surge of love so fierce it almost brought fresh tears to her eyes.
They ate at the small fold-out table, the rich, spicy stew and fluffy rice a balm to Lina's frayed soul. They didn't talk about the morning. They talked about easy things—funny stories from work, silly people they knew. It was normal and comfortable, and it was exactly what Lina needed.
After dinner, Bella gathered the plates. "I'm hopping in the shower. I feel dusty from cleaning all day."
Lina's heart did that little flip again. "You're staying?"
Bella looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "Uh, yeah. You think I deep-cleaned your entire life just to leave you alone to mess it up again? Hell no. I'm claiming my reward, which is cuddles and control of the remote."
Relief, warm and solid, flooded through Lina. "Thank God," she said, and she meant it with every fiber of her being. She truly, desperately needed someone. The idea of being alone in the silence with her own thoughts, with the memory of Daniel's cold eyes, was terrifying.
As the shower ran, Lina cleaned up the kitchen, the mundane task a pleasant anchor. When Bella emerged, the bathroom door swinging open with a cloud of steam, Lina's breath hitched.
It wasn't like it was the first time she'd seen her naked. They'd changed in front of each other a hundred times before.
Bella stood there, naked, skin glowing and damp, one hand twisting her long hair into a towel turban. Water droplets slid down the elegant column of her neck, over the swell of her breasts, down the gentle curve of her stomach and the powerful, graceful line of her thighs. She was fucking gorgeous, all toned muscle and soft curves, a living sculpture. A completely involuntary, and wholly inappropriate, pang of jealousy shot through Lina. Not because she wanted Bella, but because Bella's body was so unapologetically fine—a confident, finished product. Her own body felt like a work in progress, a testament to stress-eating and too many hours at a desk.
Bella, completely unconcerned with her nudity, padded over to her overnight bag on the floor. "Okay, talk," she commanded, pulling out a soft sleep shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. "What the actual fuck happened this morning? And don't you dare leave anything out."
So, Lina talked. "This morning," she began, her voice still a little shaky, "I went to Carter's office. You know, to talk to him about the deal you ask for." She took a sip of wine for courage. "I just… I barged right in. I know it was stupid of me not to knock, but my head was all over the place. A dumb, hopeful part of me thought maybe I'd get lucky and catch my boss shirtless or something."
She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head at her own foolishness. "But luck wasn't on my side. Instead of a half-naked Carter, I found… him. Daniel Viggo. Just sitting there with Carter, facing each other like two kings holding a secret court. The air in the room just… dropped. It felt like I'd walked into a cage with a tiger."
Bella's hands stilled. She went very quiet. "Daniel Viggo," she repeated, the name a hushed, almost sacred curse in the small room. "As in… the Daniel Viggo? Of Blackwood Enterprises? The… the…"
"The fucking emperor of everything," Lina finished, her voice flat. "Yeah. Him."
She told her everything. The way she'd frozen in the doorway. The way Carter had been calm, but Daniel… Daniel had been a glacier. She described his voice, like ground glass and velvet, when he'd ordered the coffee. The way he hadn't even looked at her.
"So I brought it. Black. Because he said black. I set it down, and I turned to leave, and…" Her voice cracked. The memory was so visceral, so loud. "He threw it."
Bella's eyes widened. "He what?"
"He fucking threw the mug. At the door. Right where I'd been standing a second before. It shattered everywhere. Hot coffee all over the wall, the floor…." Lina's hands were trembling. She clasped them together to make it stop. "If I'd been one step faster, Bella, it would have hit me in the back of the head."
"Holy shit," Bella whispered, her face pale. "Lina, that's… that's insane."
"And he was so calm. He didn't even flinch. Just sat there like he'd swatted a fly. Then he told me to make another one. With sugar." The tears were coming now, hot and shameful. She hated them, but she couldn't stop them. "So I did. I was so angry, I made it so fucking sweet. I brought it back in, handed it to him… and he took a sip. Said nothing. I thought… fuck, I thought maybe it was okay with the dickhead."
She swallowed the sob that was building in her throat. "Then he stood up. And he… he just poured it. The whole fucking cup. Right on me." The words were barely a whisper now. "It was so hot, Bella. And so sticky. It went all over my blouse, my skirt… I just stood there. I couldn't move. I couldn't even speak."
Bella was staring, her mouth agape in utter horror. She'd finished dressing but was rooted to the spot.
"Carter said something like 'that was too much,' but it was weak. He didn't really do anything. He couldn't. And Daniel just… waved his hand at me to go. Told me to make another one. Then, as I'm leaving, he says he doesn't want it anymore." A broken, wet laugh escaped her. "He just did it to do it. To show me he could."
The full weight of the humiliation crushed her then. Great, heavy sobs shook her whole body. She cried for how mean it was, for how small he made her feel.
Bella finally snapped out of her stupor. She crossed the room in two strides and sat on the bed, pulling Lina into a fierce, bone-crushing hug. "Oh, honey. Oh, my God. Lina. I'm so sorry. That fucking monster."
She held her, rocking slightly, letting Lina cry it all out onto her shoulder. She didn't try to find the right words.There were no words for what Daniel had done.
When Lina's sobs had subsided into shaky hiccups, Bella spoke, her voice low and serious. "Lina… fuck. Daniel Viggo. I mean… Jesus Christ."
She shook her head, her eyes wide. "They say he's cold. That's not even the word. Cold implies a temperature. Something that can change. He's… hollow. They say he built his empire not by climbing over his competitors, but by atomizing them. There are stories—like, real, whispered-in-the-dark stories—about companies that tried to stand up to him. They didn't just go bankrupt; they were erased from existence. Their CEOs didn't just retire; they moved to another country and never spoke publicly again. There's a rumor he once bought a pharmaceutical company just to shut down the production of a life-saving drug because the CEO had insulted him at a charity gala. He's not a man; he's a natural disaster in a Tom Ford suit."
Bella's grip was firm. "For someone like him to even notice you… it's not a good thing, Lina. It's a curse. It's like being chosen by a storm.
Hearing it laid out like that, in Bella's terrified, awe-struck tone, made the event feel even more colossal and terrifying. It wasn't just a bad day at the office; it was an encounter with a force of nature. A malevolent one.
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of it all pressing down on them.