Aria didn't realize how exhausted she was until she got home.
The door clicked shut behind her and she just stood there for a moment, leaning back against it.
Quiet.
No marble floors.
No masked CEOs.
No employees staring at her like she'd just unlocked a hidden level in a game.
Just her tiny apartment.
She exhaled.
Her phone buzzed.
Lila:
We're coming over.
Aria frowned.
We?
Jenna:
Don't act surprised. You have news. We need details.
Her heart skipped.
How did they—
Another message came in.
Lila:
Also you were on the internet today. Care to explain?
Aria groaned and slid down the door slightly.
Of course.
Of course the pictures had spread.
She typed back:
Come over. Bring snacks. I'm emotionally unstable.
Thirty minutes later, her apartment door burst open without a knock.
"EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE WHERE?" Lila announced dramatically.
Jenna followed behind her, carrying drinks and a suspiciously large bag of chips.
Aria stared at them.
"You two are allergic to calm entrances."
Lila kicked off her shoes. "Calm is for people without viral scandals."
Jenna dropped onto the couch. "Okay first of all, let's address the celebrity boyfriend rumors."
"He's not my boyfriend," Aria said immediately.
Both of them gasped dramatically.
"Oh my God," Lila whispered. "You're in denial."
"I am not."
Jenna pulled out her phone and waved it around. "The headline literally says 'Secret Relationship Exposed.'"
"It was misleading!"
"Were you in his car?"
"Yes, but—"
"Did he hug you?"
"That's not—"
"Aria."
She threw a pillow at Jenna.
They burst into laughter.
And for the first time all day, Aria felt something loosen in her chest.
Normal.
This felt normal.
They settled onto the couch with snacks scattered everywhere.
"So," Lila said, narrowing her eyes playfully, "tell us about Obsidian Holdings."
Aria hesitated.
How did she explain this without sounding insane?
"It's… intense," she started.
"Define intense," Jenna said.
"The CEO doesn't show his face."
They both blinked.
"Like ever?" Lila asked.
"He wears a mask to work."
Silence.
Then—
"That's kind of hot," Jenna said thoughtfully.
Aria choked on her drink.
"JENNA."
"I'm just saying! Mysterious billionaire energy."
Lila leaned forward. "Wait. So nobody has seen his face?"
Aria's heartbeat ticked up.
She chose her words carefully.
"Not publicly."
Not a lie.
Just not the full truth.
"And?" Jenna pressed.
"And… I got reassigned."
"Reassigned how?"
Aria inhaled.
"I'm his personal assistant."
Silence.
Utter silence.
Then both of them screamed.
"WHAT?!"
"ON DAY ONE?!"
"I didn't even know until it was announced!" Aria defended.
Lila grabbed her shoulders dramatically. "You've been chosen."
"That's not how internships work!" Aria said.
Jenna squinted suspiciously. "Okay but… why you?"
Aria's stomach tightened.
That question again.
"I don't know," she admitted quietly.
They studied her face.
"Did something happen in the interview?" Lila asked.
"No."
"Did you bribe someone?"
"No!"
"Did you trip and fall into his arms?"
"…No."
They both narrowed their eyes.
Aria rolled her eyes. "Nothing happened. He just said I'd be working under him directly."
Jenna leaned back slowly.
"Oh."
That tone.
Aria didn't like that tone.
"Oh what?"
"Oh nothing," Jenna said casually. "Just that CEOs don't randomly create positions for interns."
Lila nodded thoughtfully. "Especially not masked mysterious ones."
"He doesn't like me," Aria said quickly.
"Sure," Jenna replied.
"He barely tolerates me."
"Mm-hmm."
"He threatened my internship."
Lila gasped dramatically. "TO KEEP YOU CLOSE."
Aria stared at her.
"You watch too many dramas."
Jenna leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Wait. Did he seem jealous about Ethan?"
Aria's brain short-circuited.
"What?"
"You were trending with a celebrity," Jenna continued. "Then suddenly he makes you his personal assistant and bans public relationships?"
Aria froze.
"He said the no-public-love-life rule was made just for me."
The room went quiet.
Lila slowly blinked.
"…Oh."
Jenna whispered, "That is either extremely corporate or extremely personal."
Aria's chest tightened.
"It's corporate," she insisted.
"Are you sure?" Lila asked gently.
She wasn't.
And that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Because if it wasn't corporate…
Then what was it?
She stood abruptly and walked to the kitchen, pretending to look for something.
Her friends exchanged looks behind her.
"You're overthinking," she muttered to herself.
Or underthinking.
She remembered his grey eyes in the office.
Calm.
Measured.
Watching.
Why had he shown her his face again?
Why risk that?
Why her?
A quiet thought crept in—
What if he wasn't worried about her telling anyone?
What if he knew she wouldn't?
Or worse—
What if he didn't care?
A chill ran down her spine.
"Aria," Jenna called softly, breaking her thoughts. "Are you okay?"
She forced a smile and returned to the couch.
"I'm fine."
Lila studied her carefully.
"You look like you're not fine."
Aria hesitated.
She wanted to tell them everything.
About that night.
About the blood.
About thinking she saw him kill someone.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
And if it wasn't real—
Then what did that say about her?
"I'm just tired," she said instead.
They didn't push.
Instead, Jenna nudged her playfully. "If he makes you get his coffee every morning, I'm calling you Cinderella."
"Personal assistant," Lila corrected. "Not personal maid."
"Same thing."
Aria laughed softly despite herself.
The teasing continued.
Speculation about secret office romances.
Jokes about masked CEOs dramatically removing their masks in slow motion.
Lila even pretended to faint onto the couch.
For a while, Aria forgot the weight in her chest.
Until her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She frowned.
"Answer it," Jenna whispered dramatically.
"It's probably spam."
But something in her stomach twisted.
She stepped away and answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
She frowned. "Hello?"
Then—
A quiet breath.
Not static.
Not background noise.
Breathing.
Slow.
Measured.
Her heart began to pound.
"Who is this?" she demanded.
The line clicked dead.
She stared at the screen.
Call ended.
Her hands felt cold.
"Who was it?" Lila asked from the couch.
Aria forced her expression neutral.
"Wrong number."
But her pulse wouldn't calm.
Because for a split second—
That breathing had sounded familiar.
Controlled.
Steady.
Like someone who never rushed.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Don't be ridiculous.
It's nothing.
Just paranoia.
She turned back to her friends, forcing herself to laugh at whatever joke Jenna was making.
But later that night, after they left…
After the apartment was quiet again…
She checked her phone.
One new notification.
An email from the executive office.
Subject: Tomorrow's Schedule Update
She opened it.
Only one sentence.
Do not answer unknown numbers.
Her blood ran cold.
She never told him.
Aria stared at the email for a long time.
Do not answer unknown numbers.
Nothing else. No greeting, no signature, no explanation.
Her thumb hovered over the reply button.
How did you know?
She typed it.
Then deleted it.
Typed again.
Was that you?
Deleted.
Her chest tightened, a cold weight pressing on it. She felt exposed, almost naked, lying in her bed with the lights off. Her apartment, normally a sanctuary, felt impossibly quiet. Every creak of the floorboards sounded magnified, every hum of the refrigerator louder than usual.
"Stop overthinking," she whispered to herself. But the words sounded hollow.
She turned onto her side, curling slightly into her pillow. Her mind raced through the day: the elevator ride, his calm presence, the almost-smile that made her stomach flip, the whispers and stares from her colleagues, her friends teasing her mercilessly.
And then there was the phone. That quiet, deliberate breathing before the line went dead.
It replayed in her head. Slow. Measured. Inhumanly calm.
She had told herself it was a wrong number. A coincidence. An overactive imagination. But deep down, she knew it wasn't.
A few minutes passed. She pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders. Her hands were cold, trembling slightly. She reached for her phone again, but hesitated.
Maybe it's just IT… maybe it's automated… maybe it's nothing.
Her thumb hovered over the screen. Then it lit up.
Not an email this time. Not a call. Just a notification.
Unknown Number:
Sleep early. You have work at 9.
Her heart lurched.
She froze, staring at the glowing screen. The text was different from the email — shorter, sharper, more personal.
Her mind spun. Someone had access to her schedule. Or maybe someone knew her routine.
She quickly checked the email sender again. Executive Office. Official. Verified.
This text? Just a number. No ID. No title.
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
She sat upright in bed, hands gripping the sheets. Don't panic. Don't panic.
Her thoughts raced.
Could it be Kael? No. That was impossible. He wouldn't contact her like this… would he?
Or someone else at the company? Someone who had access?
Or—
She pressed her hands against her face. Maybe… maybe she was losing it. Maybe this was her imagination. After everything she'd seen, maybe her brain was trying to make sense of something that didn't exist.
And yet… the words lingered in her mind.
You have work at 9.
Her pulse quickened. She lay back down but couldn't sleep. Every small sound felt like a footstep. Every shadow seemed to flicker. She wrapped herself tightly in the covers, blinking against the darkness.
And then, a thought crept in that made her stomach twist:
He had said it himself.
"You attract attention, Miss Vale."
And now… she wasn't sure if that attention had stopped at the office doors.
She pressed her eyes shut and tried to convince herself of normality.
It's a city. Wrong numbers happen. Technology glitches happen. Nothing happened. You're fine.
But deep down, she felt it. That slow, undeniable pull of danger. And perhaps… fascination.
Somewhere in the quiet, she could almost hear the faint echo of his voice. Not threatening. Not angry. Calm. Measured.
And for a moment, she wondered if she was imagining things—or if she was exactly where he wanted her to be.
Her phone buzzed again.
But she didn't look.
She just lay there, heart hammering, wide awake, staring at the ceiling… waiting.