Monday morning arrived with the usual storm of emails and phone calls. Elena slid into her chair outside Alexander Frost's office, still haunted by the image of him in that restaurant.
The way he had looked at the boy.
The way the boy had smiled at him.
The way Alexander had looked… almost human.
She shook the thoughts away. It wasn't her business. She had enough to worry about without prying into her boss's life.
Still, curiosity lingered, unshakable.
By mid-morning, the office buzzed with quiet chatter. Assistants whispered at the coffee machine, analysts carried stacks of papers like soldiers with shields. Elena overheard snippets as she refilled her mug.
"…heard he has a nephew…"
"…or maybe it's his brother's kid…"
"…all I know is, Frost doesn't let anyone close. Not even family."
Elena froze mid-pour. Nephew? Brother's kid? So she wasn't the only one who'd noticed. But the speculation raised more questions than answers.
She returned to her desk, only to find Alexander's voice cutting through the air.
"Miss Carter."
She jumped, nearly spilling her coffee. "Yes, Mr. Frost?"
He stood in his doorway, sharp as ever in a navy suit, eyes fixed on her with surgical precision. "My office. Bring the quarterly projections."
She followed him inside, clutching the file. As she set it on his desk, she hesitated. The words slipped out before she could stop them.
"Mr. Frost… do you have family in the city?"
Silence.
His head lifted slowly, those storm-gray eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, the room felt colder, the air thicker.
"Why are you asking me that?" His voice was calm, but edged with warning.
Elena's throat tightened. "I—I just overheard someone mention it. I didn't mean to intrude."
He leaned back in his chair, studying her with that same dissecting gaze he had turned on her in their very first meeting. She felt pinned, exposed, as though he could see straight into her thoughts.
Finally, he spoke.
"My personal life," he said, each word deliberate, "is not for discussion in this office. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," she whispered.
But just as she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"There are things," he said quietly, almost to himself, "that are better left unspoken."
She glanced back, startled. For a heartbeat, something raw flickered in his eyes—grief, anger, she couldn't tell. Then it was gone, replaced by that familiar wall of ice.
"You may go," he said flatly.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of spreadsheets and deadlines, but Elena couldn't shake the encounter. His warning had been clear, but his slip—those words, that look—told her more than he intended.
He did have family. He did have secrets. And behind his fortress of steel and glass, Alexander Frost wasn't untouchable at all.
For the first time, Elena realized she didn't just want to survive this job.
She wanted to understand him.
And that, she suspected, would be the most dangerous challenge yet.