Evan Lee's —POV
How… how does this even happen?
My hand slams against the table before I can stop myself, the sound cracking through the room like a slap. The silence that follows feels heavy—too heavy. I drag in a long breath, fingers slipping under my tie as I loosen it, trying to ease the tightness in my chest.
I'm trapped.
In my own plan.
In my own mistake.
And worst of all—in that man's hands.
Rion Vale.
A walking disaster sent by fate only to torment me.
The door knocks.
Arem enters quietly.
I don't lift my eyes. I don't trust the expression on my face right now. He approaches anyway, sets a file in front of me. I don't touch it. I don't speak. But I can feel him watching me—Arem always watches too closely, too softly.
He moves to the side table, pours a glass of water like it's a small daily ritual meant only for me. He sets it down and speaks in that gentle voice of his.
"Sir… are you alright?"
Of course he notices.
He always does.
