She was up before her alarm.
That was normal. That had always been normal. Eve didn't sleep past what her body decided it needed and her body had learned over time that it didn't need much.
She lay there for exactly one minute staring at the ceiling.
Then she got up.
Shower. Coffee. The small deliberate routine that reminded her who she was before the day had a chance to tell her otherwise. She moved through her apartment efficiently, the same way she did everything .... no wasted motion, no unnecessary pauses.
She didn't think about last night.
She was trained not to.
Except that the glass he had used was still on the table.
She picked it up, rinsed it, put it away.
Then she left.
His office door was already closed when she arrived.
That meant he was already inside. Which meant he had been here before her.
She settled at her desk, pulled up the day's schedule, organized his itinerary and set his revised briefing documents aside for when he called for them.
Everything in its place. Everything the way it always was.
The door stayed closed.
She worked.
When it finally opened, he stepped out briefly to hand her a file.
"Get me the Harmon correspondence from last Thursday," he said.
"Yes, sir."
He went back in.
The door closed again.
She sat with it for a moment.
That half second when he had stood at the threshold. The way his eyes had moved to her before the instruction. Brief. Unhurried.
Then gone.
She pulled up the Harmon file and said nothing.
Speed arrived mid morning.
He passed her desk with a short nod, knocked once and went in. She could hear the low murmur of voices through the door ...brief, efficient, the kind of exchange that ended as quickly as it started.
When Speed came back out he paused.
Just slightly.
His eyes moved to her desk. To the closed door behind him.
Something passed across his face that he didn't put into words.
He nodded at her once and left.
Eve watched him go.
Then turned back to her screen.
Claire arrived at half past eleven.
No warning. She never gave any.
She stepped out of the elevator looking like the building had been expecting her, one hand resting on her bag, eyes moving through the outer office and landing immediately on Eve.
She smiled.
The kind that was perfectly pleasant and said everything beneath it without saying any of it out loud.
"Is he in?"
"Yes, ma'am. Let me let him know you're—"
"No need."
She crossed to the door, knocked once as a courtesy and walked straight in.
Eve sat back slowly.
Through the closed door, she could hear nothing.
She didn't try to.
She turned back to her screen, pulled up the afternoon schedule and began quietly rearranging what she already knew was about to be disrupted.
That was her job.
She was very good at it.
INSIDE — MOMENTS EARLIER
She had barely sat down before she started.
"Where were you last night?"
Ethan didn't look up from his desk immediately. He finished the line he was reading. Then he set the paper down and looked at her.
"That's not something you get to ask me."
"You're my husband—
"
"On paper," he said. Quiet. Absolute. "That's where it begins and ends, Claire. You know that."
Her jaw tightened slightly. ". You didn't come home."
"I had things to handle."
"At that hour."
He held her gaze and said nothing. Which was its own answer.
She shifted. Recrossed her legs. The composure still in place but something sharper moving underneath it.
"I hope it isn't her," she said.
"Who."
"That girl outside." A pause. "Your assistant. She has this look about her. Like she's always calculating something."
Ethan's expression didn't change.
But something in the room did.
"Claire." His voice dropped just slightly. "Do not talk about her like that."
Silence.
"She works for me," he continued. "That's all you need to know about her. And that's all you will say about her."
Claire looked at him for a long moment.
Then she stood.
Smoothed her jacket. Picked up her bag.
"I'll see myself out," she said pleasantly.
"Stay within your boundaries," Ethan said, already returning to his desk. "That's all I'm asking. Be my wife on paper. That's the arrangement."
She didn't respond to that.
She walked out.
The outer office was quiet.
Eve was at her desk, eyes on her screen, posture straight. Working. Unbothered. The picture of someone who had heard nothing and noticed less.
Claire approached slowly.
She stopped at the desk and leaned forward slightly, one hand resting on the edge of it. Easy. Casual. Like she was simply making conversation.
"You're Eve, right?"
Eve looked up.
"Yes, ma'am."
"The assistant."
"Yes."
Claire smiled. The same smile as before. Warm on the surface, deliberate underneath.
"My husband has a tendency to overstep," she said lightly. "I'm sure you've noticed. It's just who he is." A small pause. "I just hope you know where the lines are."
Eve held her gaze and said nothing.
"You really don't want me as a problem," Claire added. Still pleasant. Still smiling.
Then she straightened, adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked toward the elevator without looking back.
The doors opened. Closed.
Gone.
Eve sat quietly for a moment.
Then she turned back to her screen.
Her expression hadn't moved once.