Chapter One
Sebastian Maddox
Power doesn't announce itself.It watches.
I sit in the glass-walled conference room while my brother speaks, his voice smooth, practiced, designed for people who need to believe they're important. The board watches him like he's the sun. They laugh at the right moments. Nod when he pauses. Pretend they aren't terrified of losing everything.
They never look at me.
That's how I like it.
I don't have a title. No name on the door. No seat at the table. Yet every decision being discussed has already passed through me. Every acquisition, every firing, every strategic pivot—approved, denied, rewritten in silence.
My brother talks.I decide.
My phone vibrates once in my palm. A single word from legal.
Done.
The merger passes unanimously five minutes later.
I don't smile.
I leave before the meeting ends, because staying would mean being seen, and visibility is for men who confuse attention with control.
The hallway outside the executive floor is quiet. Too quiet. It's past six—most employees have already fled, desperate to escape the building that eats their lives. The lights hum softly above me as I walk, my footsteps measured, unhurried.
Then I hear it.
A voice.
Not sharp. Not calculating. Not afraid.
Warm.
"I'm so sorry—did you need this signed tonight or first thing tomorrow morning?"
I stop.
That's rare.
I turn my head slightly, just enough to see down the corridor toward the executive assistant's office. The light inside is still on. A girl sits at the desk, shoulders slightly hunched, hair falling loose down her back as she flips through a folder with careful fingers.
Ray Chen.
I know the name because I know everything.
She's the CEO's secretary. Efficient. Quiet. No scandals. No ambition that threatens the structure. The kind of girl men overlook because she doesn't demand to be noticed.
The man standing across from her—one of finance's new hires—laughs too loudly.
"Oh, no rush. I didn't expect anyone to still be here."
She smiles.
It's not flirtatious. That's what makes it worse.
It's genuine. Soft. Unaware.
Something in my chest tightens, sharp and unfamiliar.
The man leans closer, resting his hand on the edge of her desk. Too close. He says something I don't hear, but I watch her reaction—the polite nod, the instinctive step back, the way she keeps smiling anyway.
Wrong.
I move before I think. My presence cuts through the hallway like a blade. The finance hire notices first. His posture stiffens, color draining from his face as recognition hits.
"Mr. Maddox," he stammers. "I—I didn't see you there."
Of course you didn't.
I stop beside Ray's desk. Close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at me. Her eyes widen slightly—not in fear, just surprise.
"Oh—hi," she says. "I didn't know anyone else was still here."
Her voice is even warmer up close.
I ignore the man entirely. My gaze stays on her.
"You should go home," I say.
It isn't a suggestion.
She blinks. "I just need to finish—"
"I said go home."
The finance hire mutters something about an early meeting and disappears down the hall like his life depends on it. It probably does.
Ray watches him leave, confusion knitting her brows. She looks back at me, and for the first time, I see something flicker there.
Curiosity.
That's dangerous.
"I didn't realize I was in the way," she says carefully.
"You weren't," I reply.
My eyes drop—to the desk, the papers, the half-empty coffee gone cold beside her keyboard. I catalog everything automatically. The way she works late. The way she doesn't complain. The way she stays.
People like that are useful.
People like that are vulnerable.
"You don't need to do this," I say quietly.
She hesitates. "It's my job."
No fear. No attitude. Just honesty.
Interesting.
I step closer. Not touching—yet—but close enough that she feels it. Her breath catches. Just once. She doesn't realize I notice.
"Your job," I tell her, "is to do what keeps this company running. That includes knowing when to stop."
Her fingers curl around the edge of the desk. "Okay," she says. "I'll… I'll log out."
She stands, gathering her bag, still smiling faintly like this interaction hasn't shifted the axis of her life.
She has no idea.
As she walks past me, our shoulders brush. Accidental. Innocent.
I don't move.
She freezes for half a second, then continues down the hall, heels clicking softly against marble.
I watch her until she disappears into the elevator.
Something settles in my chest then. Not calm. Not satisfaction.
Decision.
Ray Chen doesn't belong in this building after dark.She doesn't belong anywhere unguarded.
And if the world won't protect what's soft—
I will.
Whether she wants me to or not.