Malissa sat at the edge of her bed, still in silence.
The events of the night replayed in fragments.
The flashes. The whispers. The questions.
The way people looked at her like she was something to be understood.
She should have been asleep.
She had work in the morning.
But her mind refused to rest.
After a moment, she reached for her phone.
Just one look. That was all she told herself.
The screen lit up. And everything hit her again. New posts.
New headlines.
New photos.
Images from The Glasshouse had spread across every platform. Her face. His hand near her waist.
The distance between them that said everything and nothing at the same time.
The internet had exploded.
[Later Update Post]
@StarGossipDaily:
UPDATE: STILL NO CONFIRMED IDENTITY OF THE WOMAN. CEO X's COMPANY HAS DECLINED TO MOMMENT
More Comments:
@NightCrawler: [No name, no background, no info?? She just appeared out of thin air??]
@JealousMuch: [Whoever she is… she won 😭]
@CloutHunter: [Watch her open an Instagram account tomorrow with 2M followers overnight.]
@ThreadMaster: [Already searching universities in the city. Someone WILL find her.]
Netizens were in an uproar.
Threads multiplied within minutes.
People compared angles.
Zoomed in on details.
Analyzed body language like it was evidence in a case. Some said it was real. Some said it was a contract.
Some said it was a scandal waiting to happen.
Malissa's grip on her phone tightened.
They were looking for her. Not just watching anymore. Searching. Her chest tightened.
For the first time, it didn't feel like attention.
It felt like danger.
The night stretched longer than it should have.
Malissa barely slept.
Even after putting her phone away, the images stayed behind her eyelids. Flashes of cameras. Headlines. Comments. Strangers dissecting her life like it belonged to them.
When she finally drifted off, it was shallow and restless.
By morning, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. Still, she got up. Routine. Work.
Something normal.
She needed something that still felt like hers.
Aurora Publishing was already alive when she arrived.
The moment she stepped through the glass doors, something felt off.
Too quiet. Too aware. Heads turned. Whispers followed.
Phones lowered slowly as she walked past.
Outside the building, a black car had been waiting longer than usual.
Inside it, Alexander Marquez watched the entrance in silence.
She had not answered his calls that morning.
And he did not ignore anomalies.
"She's the one…"
"That's her…"
"She was with him…"
Malissa kept her gaze forward.
Step by step. Controlled.
As if she couldn't hear any of it.
But she could. Every word landed.
Inside the webtoon production floor, artists paused mid-sketch. Editors stared a little too long at their screens.
The atmosphere had shifted.
She was no longer just Malissa.
She was something else now. Something watched.
She reached her desk and sat down quietly, turning on her system. Work. Focus.
Ignore everything else.
That was the plan.
The sharp sound of heels broke the fragile silence.
Mrs Grant.
She walked in with her usual authority, but today there was something else beneath it.
Something sharper. Something unsettled.
Her eyes locked onto Malissa immediately.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she walked forward.
Fast.
A thick stack of printed storyboards landed hard on Malissa's desk.
The impact made a few sheets slide off the edge.
"Since you're suddenly so popular," Mrs Grant said coldly, "I assume you won't mind handling more work."
The office went quiet. Malissa looked up slowly.
"I already completed my assigned tasks," she said carefully.
Mrs Grant let out a short laugh.
"Assigned tasks?" she repeated. "Do you think your… situation changes your responsibilities here?"
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Malissa kept her voice steady.
"No, ma'am."
"Good," Mrs Grant snapped. "Then get to work."
She turned as if to leave, then paused.
Her gaze flicked back. Sharp. Judging.
"You know," she added, voice lower now, "people are talking."
Silence stretched.
"They're saying interesting things about you."
Malissa's fingers tightened slightly on the desk.
Mrs Grant stepped closer.
"About how quickly people rise when they know the right men."
A few quiet gasps.
Something inside Malissa shifted. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But enough. She looked up.
Directly.
"I earned my position here," she said quietly.
The room stilled. Mrs Grant blinked. Once.
Then her expression hardened.
"Oh?" she said softly. "Is that what you tell yourself?"
Malissa didn't look away.
"It's the truth."
That was it. That was the moment.
The line that shouldn't have been crossed.
Mrs Grant's composure snapped.
"You're getting bold," she said sharply.
Before anyone could react, she grabbed the stack of papers from the desk and flung them forward.
They hit Malissa across the shoulder and scattered to the floor.
The sound echoed.
No one moved. Malissa stood slowly. Her heart was pounding. But she didn't back down.
"You can't treat me like this," she said.
Mrs Grant stepped closer.
"And who is going to stop me?" she demanded.
The room held it's breath. Her hand lifted. Fast. A slap.
At that exact moment, the glass doors at the entrance opened.
No one noticed at first.
But someone had already been standing there. Watching.
"Don't."
The word cut through the room like a blade.
Mrs Grant froze.
Her hand stopped mid-air. The entire office turned.
And he was there.
Alexander Marquez.
Silence fell instantly. Heavy. Absolute.
He walked in without hesitation.
Calm. Controlled. Every step deliberate. No rush. No wasted movement. The air shifted with him.
Malissa's breath caught.
"You're here…" she whispered.
Mrs Grant's face drained of color.
"M… Mr. Marquez…"
He didn't look at her. Not yet. His gaze was on Malissa. Taking in everything. The scattered papers. Her posture. The tension in her shoulders. The red mark forming where the papers had struck.
Something in his eyes darkened.
Then he spoke.Slowly. Coldly.
"If you value your career," he said, "you will lower your hand."
Mrs Grant's hand dropped immediately.
Now he looked at her.
And the temperature in the room dropped.
"Did you just raise your hand," he asked quietly, "against my woman?"
The words landed heavily.
My woman.
A ripple of shock moved through the office.
Mrs Grant stammered.
"I… I didn't…"
"You were about to," he interrupted.
His voice wasn't loud. But it didn't need to be.
He stepped closer. Each movement precise.
"Is this how Aurora Publishing operates?" he continued. "Or is this your personal standard?"
No one spoke. No one dared.
"Mr. Marquez!"
A rushed voice broke through the tension.
The company's CEO appeared, slightly breathless, clearly summoned in a panic.
"I sincerely apologize," he said quickly. "This is a misunderstanding…"
Alexander didn't look at him.
"Is it?" he asked.
The CEO faltered. Alexander's gaze returned to Mrs Grant.
"Has this been happening for a while?"
Silence. No one answered. But no one denied it either. That was enough.
Alexander straightened slightly. Calm again.
Controlled.
"Effective immediately," he said, "she will no longer be reporting to this department."
The CEO nodded quickly. "Of course. Of course."
"And her supervisor," Alexander continued, his gaze still on Mrs Grant, "will be reviewed."
Mrs Grant's face went pale.
"Please…" she started.
Alexander didn't acknowledge her.
Not even a glance.
Then, finally, he turned back to Malissa.
"Come," he said simply.
She hesitated. Just for a second. Looking around. At the office. At the people who had watched. At the life she had tried to hold onto.
Then she stepped forward.
Alexander's hand moved slightly toward her. Not grabbing. Not forcing. Just there. Waiting.
She took it.
They walked out together.
Past the stunned silence.
Past the whispers that hadn't yet found their voice again.
Past the life she had just lost.
Outside, the city moved as it always did.
Unbothered. Unchanged.
But for Malissa…
Everything had shifted.
Again. And this time… There was no going back.