Talia had barely made it halfway down the corridor before the hot sting in her eyes blurred her vision. She ducked into the quiet staff lounge, setting the empty tray on the counter with trembling hands.
Cassandra's words replayed in her head — every mocking inflection, every cutting laugh. Making beds… cleaning… fetching tea.
She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to go down.
She'd been trying so hard — keeping her head low, working without complaint, even convincing herself that the strange glances Adrian sometimes gave her might mean something more than she dared to hope. But now she knew. To him, she was just the help. A maid in uniform. Nothing more.
Her shoulders shook as a tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away, but the quiet sound of a door opening made her stiffen.
"Talia?"
She turned to see Alex leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves rolled up, his usual easy grin softening into concern.
"I… heard what happened," he said, stepping inside. "Cassandra's… well, she's not exactly known for kindness."
Talia shook her head. "It's fine. I shouldn't care." But her voice cracked, betraying her.
"Hey," Alex said gently, closing the distance. "You should care. You don't deserve that." He hesitated, and then added, "You deserve to be around people who see you. Really see you."
Her eyes lifted to his, caught in the sincerity there — or what looked like sincerity. He reached for her hand, not quite touching, but close enough to make her breath hitch.
At that moment, a faint click sounded from the corner of the room — the tiny motor of a rotating security camera mounted high on the wall. Neither of them noticed.
Across the building, in his office suite, Adrian sat at his desk, his laptop open to the building's security feed. The flicker of movement on the staff lounge camera caught his eye.
His jaw tightened as he watched Alex lean in, his posture just a little too familiar. Adrian's fingers curled slowly around his pen, knuckles whitening.
Later that day, as Alex stepped out of the service elevator, he nearly bumped into Adrian standing in the hallway. The air between them was sharp, almost electric.
"Alex," Adrian said, his voice low but unyielding. "From this moment on, Talia answers to me. No errands. No messages. Nothing goes through you."
Alex frowned, feigning innocence. "Sir, I was only—"
"You were only standing too close to someone who isn't yours," Adrian cut in, his tone icy. "Come near her again, and you'll be collecting your pay with a termination letter. Understood?"
Alex held his gaze for a moment, but the steel in Adrian's eyes made his smirk falter. "Understood."
Adrian stepped past him without another word, but his thoughts lingered on the image of Talia's tearful face. He told himself it was about protecting staff dignity. But the truth — the truth was far more personal.
WOLFE TOWER, TALIA'S APARTMENT—10:00p.m.
The office building was hushed, its usual bustle replaced by the hum of the night lights and the distant tick of the lobby clock.
Talia was in the small kitchen of her new apartment within the office complex, arranging the last of her folded clothes into a cabinet. Her eyes were still faintly red from earlier, though she'd long since stopped crying. She just wanted quiet.
A knock at the door broke the stillness.
She hesitated, then opened it to find Adrian standing there — no suit jacket, tie undone, sleeves rolled. He looked… tired, sick, maybe even restless.
"Talia," he said, his deep voice soft but hesitant.
She stepped aside to let him in, but her movements were restrained, almost stiff. "Is there something you need, sir?" she asked, avoiding his eyes.
The "sir" cut sharper than he expected.
He glanced at her, noticing the guarded way she crossed her arms.
"I… came to see if you were settling in," he said.
"I'm fine," she replied quickly. "Everything's fine."
Her tone carried that polite distance people use when they don't want to talk.
Adrian lingered near the kitchen counter, fingers tapping lightly against it. For a man so used to control, the silence was unexpectedly heavy.
"I saw what happened today," he finally said. "With Cassandra."
Her hands froze mid-movement. She didn't turn around. "It doesn't matter."
"It does," he said, his voice firmer now. "She was out of line."
When she still didn't respond, he stepped closer, his words lower, almost reluctant. "And I was… wrong."
That made her glance at him. "Wrong?"
"I should have defended you. And I didn't." He drew in a breath, like the admission cost him something. "For that… I'm sorry, Talia."
Her guard faltered for a second, but she quickly looked away. "Apology noted."
Adrian studied her profile — the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her fingers curled slightly against her arm. He wanted to say more, but knew pushing now would only make her retreat further.
"I'll… let you rest," he said finally, turning toward the door. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir and don't forget to take your meds," she replied quietly.
As the door shut behind him, Talia stood still, conflicted. Her heart had quickened at his apology, but she refused to let herself read into it. Not when she'd already been reminded of her place.