The office was cool.
Liam stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. Smoke curled upward, thin and lazy, disappearing into nothing. Far below, cars moved like toys—tiny, orderly, going somewhere with purpose.
He felt none.
His phone vibrated.
Mother.
He didn't pick it up immediately.
He took one last drag, crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, and only then answered.
"Come to the mansion," Mrs Adrien said. No greeting. No warmth. "Now. We need to see you."
There was a pause on the line.
"Urgently."
"I'll be there," Liam replied.
He hung up first.
The Adrien mansion looked the same as always. Too polished. Too perfect.
But the moment Liam stepped into the dining room, he knew something was wrong.
Lorette was there.
So were Mr and Mrs Adams.
Her parents.
His father was absent.
Liam slowed his steps, his eyes sharpening just a fraction. Suspicion settled in his chest like a weight.
They all sat down.
Liam took the seat beside Lorette. She didn't look at him. Her hands were folded tightly on her lap.
At first, it was small talk.
Work.
Health.
The weather.
Mrs Adrien played the perfect hostess. Calm. Smiling. Controlled.
Then Mrs Adams cleared her throat.
The sound was soft, but it cut through the room.
"There's something we need to discuss," she said gently, though her eyes were anything but gentle.
The table went quiet.
Lorette's shoulders stiffened.
Mrs Adams turned slightly toward Liam. "Something happened between you and our daughter."
Liam didn't react. He already knew where this was going.
"She's pregnant," Mrs Adams said.
The word landed.
Pregnant.
Guess she never went to the clinic as planned.
Mrs Adams continued quickly, as if afraid silence might crack her voice. "We didn't want things to become complicated, but this concerns the future. Responsibility."
Lorette's fingers trembled.
Mr Adams sat upright, his tone firm. "You're a man now, Liam. Actions have consequences."
Liam leaned back in his chair.
Calm.
Very calm.
"I understand what you're implying," he said evenly. "But I'm not ready for a relationship. And I'm not ready for marriage."
The air shifted instantly.
Mrs Adams' face drained of color. "Excuse me?"
Lorette finally looked at him, eyes wide, almost pleading.
Mrs Adrien's smile vanished.
"Liam," she said sharply, "this is not the time to be careless with words."
"I'm not being careless," Liam replied. His voice didn't rise. That made it worse. "I'm being honest."
Mr Adams frowned deeply. "Honest? My daughter's reputation is at stake."
Mrs Adams' voice shook. "Do you know what people will say?"
Mrs Adrien straightened in her chair, her tone turning cold. "Enough."
She turned to Liam, her eyes hard. "You will take responsibility. I will not have my family lose face. And I will not allow my friend to be humiliated."
Liam looked at her.
Truly looked.
"Forcing me into something I don't want," he said slowly, "will not fix this."
Mrs Adrien's jaw tightened. "You think this is about what you want?"
"Yes," Liam said. "Because I'm the one being asked to live with it."
Silence.
Lorette swallowed. "Liam…" she whispered.
He didn't look at her.
"I will provide support," Liam continued. "Financially. Legally, if necessary. But I won't pretend. I won't marry out of obligation."
Mrs Adams covered her mouth, shocked.
Mr Adams' face darkened.
Mrs Adrien stood abruptly, palms pressed to the table. "You will not embarrass us."
Liam rose too.
"I'm not trying to," he said quietly. "But I won't lie to make things easier."
He turned and walked out.
No shouting.
No slammed doors.
The collaboration didn't stop.
If anything, it deepened.
Meetings became frequent. Too frequent to be coincidence, too precise to be avoided. Stellar Corporation's upper floors began to recognize a pattern. Whenever Oliver's institute was involved, results came faster. Cleaner. Sharper.
People noticed.
They worked frighteningly well together.
Not loudly.
Not warmly.
But efficiently, like two minds cut from the same cold metal.
Oliver spoke when necessary. His voice was calm, exact, never wasting syllables. Liam listened, eyes focused, posture relaxed but alert. When Oliver challenged a system design, Liam didn't dismiss it. He asked questions. Direct ones. The kind only someone who truly understood the material would ask.
Executives exchanged looks.
"Strange," one of them murmured once. "They think the same way."
The first boundary test happened on a late afternoon.
Liam's office.
Glass walls. Muted light. The city stretched behind him like a controlled chaos he ruled effortlessly.
Oliver stood across the desk, tablet tucked under his arm, explaining a flaw in the authentication protocol.
"This part here," Oliver said, tapping the screen. "It looks secure, but it's predictable under pressure."
Liam leaned back in his chair, eyes on Oliver's face rather than the screen.
"You always notice the pressure points," he said.
Oliver paused.
Just a second too long.
"It's my job," he replied evenly.
Liam smiled. Small. Brief. Gone before anyone could accuse it of meaning.
Liam's eyes lingered. Oliver felt it like heat on skin, but he didn't step back. He didn't step closer either.
He simply said, "If there's nothing else, I'll send the revised report tonight."
And left.
Liam watched the door long after it closed.
The messages started that night.
Oliver was at home.
The dining room was softly lit, warm in a way his workplace never was. Lois sat across from him, one leg tucked under himself on the chair, scrolling through something on his laptop. A simple meal sat between them.
Just as Oliver picked up his spoon, his phone vibrated.
Once.
He glanced at it.
Unknown reaction crossed his face. Subtle. Quick. But Lois noticed.
"Work?" Lois asked.
"Yes," Oliver said after a pause.
Another vibration.
Then another.
Lois raised an eyebrow. "Busy boss."
Oliver unlocked the phone.
Liam:
I've reviewed your notes.
You're right about the vulnerability.
Oliver typed back carefully.
Oliver:
I'll send a full breakdown tomorrow.
A moment passed.
Liam:
No need to wait.
I'm free now.
Oliver stared at the screen.
Lois leaned forward slightly. "You okay?"
"Yes," Oliver said. Too quickly. He took a breath. "Just… work."
He typed again.
Oliver:
It can wait until morning.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then:
Liam:
You always used to work late.
Oliver's chest tightened.
Used to.
He locked the phone.
Set it face-down.
Lois studied him openly now. "That's not a normal work message."
Oliver picked up his spoon again. His hand was steady.
"It's fine," he said. "Just someone who doesn't know when to stop."
Lois smiled softly. "You should tell him."
Oliver didn't answer.
The phone vibrated once more.
He didn't look.
They ate in silence for a while. Comfortable. Familiar. Safe.
But Oliver's mind wasn't there anymore.
It was in glass rooms. Long looks.
Across the table, Lois finally said, gently, "Whoever he is… he's not just work, is he?"
Oliver swallowed.
"No," he said quietly.
And that was all he allowed himself to say...