The conference room at Crimson Company had emptied into a symphony of scraping chair legs and rustling paper. The team organization meeting was officially over, though one notable absence hung in the air: Lauren was not present.
At the end of the glass table, Jane moved with practiced, mechanical efficiency, squaring away her files. A few feet away, Roman was wrapping up his final thoughts.
"The documents will be sent to the group chat," Roman said, turning to the man beside him. "And I think we should meet again to go over that."
Jonathan nodded, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp, long-sleeve shirt before smoothing down his black trousers. "That's fine," he replied, his voice low.
As Roman and Jonathan turned and headed toward the glass doors, Jane's gaze followed them. Her eyes lingered on Roman—on the broad line of his shoulders, the long, slender sweep of his hands, and the effortless confidence in his stride. He was a man she wanted with a desperate, quiet intensity. It sent a thrill down her spine, instantly followed by a familiar, heavy ache.
They had slept together just once—a casual, impulsive encounter. Yet, she couldn't stop replaying it in her mind. She could still feel the phantom heat of him, the memory of the way he had taken her against his office table, relentless and commanding, giving her precisely what she had craved. The recollection was a double-edged sword, thrilling her body while shaming her soul.
Stepping out of the conference room, Jane walked down the corridor, her thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory. The mere mental image of Roman sharing that kind of intimacy with another woman—touching someone else, looking at someone else the way she begged to be looked at—twisted violently in her chest.
What if she had his child? the intrusive thought whispered in the dark corners of her mind. Would he have to stay then? Would he accept that?
Jane stopped dead in her tracks, blinking hard. That is absurd. What are you even thinking, Jane?
She shook her head, a wave of self-reproach washing over her. She was better than this. She was smart, responsible, hardworking, kind, and valued for a reason—it was precisely why she had earned her position as Lauren's trusted assistant. She was a woman of substance and principles. Pinning her future to a man through an unplanned pregnancy with Roman's child? It was reckless, desperate, and entirely unreasonable.
Taking a long, shuddering breath, Jane forced the intoxicating, toxic fantasy out of her lungs. She squared her shoulders, plastered on her professional composure, and headed toward her office.
Miles away, the ambient glow of a celebrity television show washed over the living room walls. Catelyn sat curled up on the sofa, one leg tucked comfortably beneath her, resting against the cushions. The TV remote sat neglected on the coffee table right beside her glowing smartphone.
Her mind drifted, latching onto Silas. Should she message him? she wondered, her thumb hovering near her phone screen. Or maybe just give him a quick call?
Instantly, a knot of hesitation tied itself in her stomach. What would she even say? She could feel a genuine, undeniable connection pulling her toward him, but a stubborn part of her resisted it—afraid of what admitting that attraction might mean. Sighing softly, she dropped her hand back to her lap and turned her attention back to the screen, letting the superficial drama of the TV show distract her.
Meanwhile, just steps away, the soft hum of the house was broken as Silas walked out of the kitchen. He cradled a warm ceramic mug of tea in his hands, taking a slow, contemplative sip as the steam curled into the air. Making his way toward the couch, he fished his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and sank into the cushions.
His screen lit up with notifications. A text from his mother asking how his week was going, followed closely by a message from his father checking in on his well-being. Smiling faintly, Silas set his tea down on the coffee table to give them his full attention, typing out quick, reassuring replies.
As soon as he sent those off, a fresh ping signaled a group chat message from Roman and a few other close friends. He jumped into the conversation, trading banter and catching up. Amidst the digital noise and the quiet comfort of the evening, the day rolled on, wrapping them both in its familiar, routine embrace.
Lucy sat comfortably at her desk, her gaze fixed intently on her phone screen. A bright, genuine smile spread across her face, so infectious that it seemed to light up the immediate workspace around her as her fingers flew across the keypad, chatting with Madison.
For Lucy, the joy running through her wasn't just about the chat; it stemmed from a deeper place. Finding her long-lost relative had unlocked a profound sense of peace within her. Knowing she wasn't entirely alone in the world made her feel profoundly content, wrapping her in a warm bubble of happiness that nothing at work could puncture.
Elsewhere, far from the bright office atmosphere, Elsa's mind was occupied by darker thoughts. She knew with absolute certainty that there were shady, dangerous undercurrents operating beneath the glamorous surface of the club—secrets waiting to blow wide open but that wasn't her business anymore.
Back at her desk, Lucy brought her conversation to a close, tapping out her final thoughts to her aunt.
"I have to go, Aunt," Lucy typed.
"Okay, dear, talk to you later," Madison replied almost immediately.
"Okay," Lucy sent back.