He didn't raise his voice.
That's how I knew he was angry.
The door to my office closed softly behind him, the click of the lock echoing louder than a shout. He stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that felt rehearsed.
"You're enjoying this," he said.
I didn't look up. "Enjoying what?"
"Watching everything unravel."
I finally met his eyes.
"I didn't start the unraveling," I said calmly. "I survived it."
His lips curved into a humorless smile. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"So are you," I replied. "The difference is, I've already lost once. I'm not afraid of losing again."
That caught his attention.
He stepped closer. "You keep talking like you remember things you shouldn't."
I tilted my head. "Maybe I just learned faster than you expected."
—
He circled the desk slowly, like a predator deciding whether to strike.
"You've been undermining me," he said. "Turning the board against me."
"I've been transparent," I corrected. "If transparency threatens you, perhaps the problem isn't me."
His jaw clenched.
"You think you're untouchable now?" he asked. "Because you're not."
I smiled softly. "Neither are you."
—
He stopped in front of me.
"You want power?" he asked. "I can give you more than this. A bigger role. Public recognition."
Ah.
The offer.
The same one that came before my death.
"I already have power," I said. "You just didn't notice when it shifted."
His eyes darkened.
"You should be careful," he said quietly. "You're isolating yourself."
"No," I replied. "You are."
He scoffed. "You really think she'll stand by you when things get ugly?"
I leaned forward slightly. "You really think she'll stand by you?"
The silence stretched.
We both knew the answer.
—
"You changed after the accident," he said suddenly.
My heart stilled.
"What accident?" I asked evenly.
He watched me closely. "The one you don't remember."
I smiled. "I remember everything."
That was the moment he knew.
His expression shifted—not anger.
Fear.
Pure, naked fear.
—
He straightened abruptly. "This conversation never happened."
"Of course not," I said. "Just like the last one."
He paused at the door.
"You won't win," he said without turning around.
I replied softly, "I already did."
—
When he left, my hands trembled for the first time in weeks.
Not from fear.
From excitement.
Because the man who once controlled my fate now knew—
I was no longer predictable.
—