(Sebastian's POV)
She's trembling now.
Not dramatically, no initial sobs, no collapsing to her knees. Just the fine, involuntary quiver in her fingers as they clutch the edge of the folder like it's the only thing keeping her upright. Her eyes are glassy, wide, locked on mine as if looking away will make this disappear.
It won't.
I let the silence stretch another beat, let it press against her until her breathing turns shallow and ragged.
"Please," she whispers. The word cracks on the way out. "Mr. Kane… I'm not, I'm not a thief. I swear. I'm just a mother who doesn't want to lose her son."
She stops and swallows. Then tries again.
"My son. Liam. He's five struggling with chronic leukemia. The treatments… the bills…" Her voice fractures. "I didn't have a choice. I never meant to take from you. I could pay it back when he was better. I swear on his life."
Tears spill over now, silent and fast, carving tracks down her cheeks. She doesn't wipe them away. Doesn't look ashamed. Just desperate and unfiltered.
I feel the dark spark in my chest flare hotter.
She's beautiful when she breaks.
Not fragile-beautiful but the kind of beauty most women in my world pay surgeons to fake.
She has it for free.
I lean back in my chair, steeple my fingers, keep my voice low and even.
"You falsified invoices. You manipulated reconciliations. You diverted company funds, my funds into personal accounts. That's not desperation, Ms. Reed. That's felony embezzlement."
Her shoulders jerk like I struck her.
"I know," she breathes. "I know what it is. But he's dying. Every day they tell me the window is closing. Please. I'll do anything. Just… don't call the police. Don't take him away from me."
Anything.
The word hangs between us like a key turning in a lock.
I rise slowly, circle the desk. She flinches when I stop behind her chair, close enough that she can feel the heat of me without touching. I lean down, brace one hand on the back of her chair, the other on the armrest, caging her without contact.
"You want mercy," I murmur near her ear. My voice is velvet over steel. "I don't do mercy."
She drops to her knees immediately sobbing, pleading, hands clasped in front of her like prayer.
I allow a few seconds to pass, watching the way her shoulders shake, the way her tears drip onto the carpet. Watching the way desperation carves her open.
"I do deals," I say at last.
"Please," she chokes out again. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just save him."
Her head lifts just enough to meet my eyes, hope and terror warring there.
"I will bury every trace of this. The logs and everything gone. I will pay for every dollar of your son's treatment. Experimental protocols, specialists, private rooms, whatever it takes. He'll get the best care money can buy."
Her head turns, her lips part on a broken exhale. I see the hope flicker in her eyes, fragile, terrified hope.
"In exchange," I continue, softer now, almost tender, "you belong to me."
She freezes.
"Not for a night. Not for a month. Completely. You will come when I call. You will do what I say. You will learn exactly what it costs to steal from me. Pain. Until I decide you've paid enough."
A tear slides down her cheek and drips onto her collar.
"If you refuse," I finish, "I call the authorities. Right now. You'll be arrested in front of your coworkers. Your son will be taken into foster care while you rot in a cell waiting for trial. And trust me, Ms. Reed, you won't win."
She closes her eyes. A shudder runs through her.
"I accept," she whispers.
I straighten.
"Good."
I walk back around the desk, sit, and slide a single sheet of paper toward her. A simple nondisclosure and personal services agreement.
"Sign."
Her hand shakes as she takes the pen. The signature is small, neat, almost childlike.
I take the paper, fold it once, and place it in my drawer.
"You're fired, effective immediately. Clear your desk. Leave the building. I'll send the address of my penthouse. Be there at eight tonight. Wear something sexy and red. No underwear." I added with a smirk
She stares at me like she's never seen me before.
Then she stands slowly, like her legs might give out and walks to the door without another word.
The door closes behind her with a soft click.
I exhale once.
Then I smile.
(Mara's POV)
The ride down in the elevator feels like falling.
I didn't cry again. Not here. Not where cameras might see.
My cubicle is exactly as I left it spreadsheets open, coffee cold, a photo of Liam taped to the monitor. Smiling. Gap-toothed. Alive.
I sweep everything into a cardboard box the security guard hands me without a word. No one asks questions. No one meets my eyes. Word travels fast in this building.
I walk out through the lobby with my head high and the box clutched to my chest like armor.
The subway is a blur. The hospital is a blur. Everything is a blur except the pounding in my skull and the taste of salt on my lips.
Liam is awake when I reach his room. He's coloring.
"Mommy!" His voice is thin but bright.
I drop the box by the door and cross to him in three steps. I pull him into my arms, careful of the lines, and bury my face in his hair. He smells like hospital shampoo and crayons.
"Hey, baby," I whisper. "Hey, my fighter."
Nora appears in the doorway. She takes one look at my face and her expression crumples.
Do I look that terrible?
I shake my head. Not now.
But when Liam drifts back to sleep, crayons still in his fist, I follow her into the hallway.
She doesn't ask. She just opens her arms.
I collapse against her and the tears come hot, ugly and unstoppable.
"He knows," I choke out. "Sebastian Kane. He knows everything. I'm fired. I'm… I'm his now. Whatever that means. He's paying for Liam's treatment. All of it. But I have to"
Nora holds me tighter.
"You did what you had to," she says fiercely. "You're still doing it. Don't you dare feel shame for keeping him alive."
I pull back, wipe my face with shaking hands.
"I have to go to his penthouse tonight. Eight o'clock."
Nora's jaw tightens. "Do you want me to come with you? Wait outside? Anything?"
"No." I force a watery smile. "I need you here. With him."
She nods once.
I go back and give Liam a soft lingering kiss on his forehead then leave.
The address arrives via text as I'm walking out of the hospital. A sleek high-rise on Billionaires' Row. No name. Just coordinates and a private elevator code.
I go home first, take a shower and change into a red dress, a short simple flare gown, nothing overly sexy. No bra or panties. My stomach rolls at the thought.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
This is for Liam.
This is for Liam.
I repeat it like a prayer the entire cab ride across town.
The doorman doesn't ask questions. The elevator doesn't stop on any other floor.
When the doors open directly into the penthouse, Sebastian is waiting.
Black shirt. Black trousers. Sleeves rolled. Glass of something dark in his hand.
He looks at me like I'm already his.
"On time," he says softly. "Good."
He sets the glass down.
"Come here."
I step forward.
The doors close behind me.
He pulls me to himself in one swift motion, his hand sliding under the flared hem of my red dress. Fingers brush the bare skin of my inner thigh, then higher confirming what I already knew.
No underwear.
"Good girl," he murmurs against my ear, voice low and satisfied.