I didn't sleep again.
My body was exhausted, but my brain wouldn't shut up.
She is the choice.
That voice. Cold. Certain. Like I was a pawn in a game I never knew existed.
And Lucas? He didn't argue.
Not really.
He just… didn't deny it.
I stared at my ceiling for what felt like hours, turning that one sentence over and over in my head like a stone in my mouth.
He didn't know I heard.
That's what got me.
If he'd wanted me to know, he'd have said something. He wouldn't have used the word "yet." Wouldn't have told someone to keep me in the dark.
So now I was in it. Deep.
And worse?
He still wasn't talking to me.
I checked my inbox three times before leaving for work.
Nothing.
No message.
No explanation.
Not even a breadcrumb.
Maybe he thought I needed time. Maybe he thought silence was safer. But I knew better now.
Silence is how you hide things.
When I walked into the office, Isla clocked me immediately.
"You look like you're planning to commit arson," she said over her coffee.
"Too public," I muttered, dropping into my seat.
"Okay, then maybe quiet sabotage?"
I didn't laugh.
She raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward. "Talk."
"Not yet," I said.
She leaned back slowly. "So something happened."
I nodded once.
"Is it the tall, emotionally unavailable nightmare on the fifteenth floor?"
I said nothing.
Which was answered enough.
Isla sighed. "You need to start giving me more credit. I can handle the weird stuff."
"I'm not ready to say it out loud."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then said, "Okay."
No pressure.
No jokes.
Just space.
The kind Lucas used to give me.
Before everything changed.
Before I became someone else's choice.
I made it through most of the day pretending.
Pretending I was focused.
Pretending I didn't hear echoes of that conversation every time the elevator pinged.
Pretending Lucas didn't exist five floors above me, with access to every hallway, every meeting, every secret.
But I was done waiting for him to hand me the truth.
If he wasn't going to explain it, I'd find it myself.
After lunch, I stayed behind when the others left for the planning debrief. Isla gave me a look but didn't say anything.
I opened the internal network.
Started digging.
Just job stuff at first—public staff lists, organizational trees, titles, contracts. Everything is scrubbed and polished for corporate comfort.
Lucas Vale's name wasn't on any of them.
Not listed under management.
Not listed under executive officers.
Nowhere.
Which didn't make sense.
He ran meetings. He pulled rank on people twice his age. Hell, he was literally on a first-name basis with the CEO.
But he didn't officially exist.
I searched for his name in the directory.
Nothing.
Not even a placeholder email.
But the company had something else: an old, hidden archive system.
IT never locked it properly. You could find it if you knew what to look for—legacy project folders, scanned contracts, and confidential financial records from old internal audits.
I clicked through, slow and steady, careful not to trip any access flags.
Most of it was junk.
Until I found a folder labelled:
WILLIAM VALE – TRANSITION
I clicked.
Inside: scanned contracts, board statements, ownership transfer summaries.
My chest tightened.
This wasn't just an internal shift.
This was a complete handoff.
And then I saw the line that stopped me cold.
Effective January 2nd: Lucas Vale to be instated as Chief Executive Officer following silent acquisition by W.V. Holdings.
I stared at the screen.
Then read it again.
Lucas wasn't just working here.
He wasn't just powerful.
He wasn't even becoming the CEO.
He already was.
I closed the folder.
Logged out.
Cleared my history.
But it was too late.
Not by the clock—by instinct.
The air changed.
Like a shift in pressure right before a storm.
I sat back in my chair and stared at the screen, hands frozen in place. My heart was still racing from what I read.
Lucas. CEO.
No wonder no one could touch him. No wonder his name wasn't in the directory. He didn't have to be listed. He owned the damn system.
I didn't know if I felt betrayed, furious, terrified—or all three layered on top of each other like wet sheets I couldn't peel off.
And then I saw it.
The bottom right corner of my screen.
A new email.
FROM: L.V.
SUBJECT: I told you I wouldn't come near you.
TIME: 3:14 PM
My pulse jumped.
I clicked it.
Inside: just one sentence.
But I never said I wouldn't watch.
I stared at the words.
Then looked up.
Across the floor. Through the glass wall. Past the hallway.
And there he was.
Leaning against the frame of the stairwell door.
Watching me.
His expression is very confusing.
Suit perfect.
Mouth set in that slight, not-quite-a-smile that said I already know everything.
He nodded once.
A single motion.
Then turned.
And disappeared down the stairs.
Leaving me with one terrifying, irreversible truth.
He knew.
The hallway leading to the archive room felt endless, the fluorescent lights above casting a clinical glare that made the tension in Mia's chest stretch tighter.
Lucas walked a few paces ahead of her, jaw clenched, fingers balled into fists like he was keeping something inside. She'd been trying to read him since they left the conference room—but he was giving her nothing.
"Lucas," she called gently, breaking the silence. "You're not going to say anything about what just happened back there?"
He didn't stop walking, didn't even turn his head. "What do you want me to say, Mia?"
"I don't know. Maybe you weren't just as stunned as I was when your father practically threw me to the wolves?"
This time he halted, exhaling sharply before facing her. "That's exactly what I was, okay? Stunned. I didn't see it coming."
"Didn't see it?" she echoed, eyebrows lifting. "Your father humiliated me in front of that board like I was some intern with a fake degree—"
"And you think I was in on that?" he snapped. "That I stood by and let it happen because I wanted to?"
She flinched. Not because he raised his voice, but because his eyes—God, his eyes—were aching behind the frustration. Something flickered there. Regret? Guilt?
Maybe both.
"No," she muttered. "I don't think that. But you need to understand what it looked like from where I stood."
Lucas raked a hand through his hair. "I do. I know. But believe me, Mia, my father has his agenda. And I'm starting to think I don't even know what that is anymore."
She stepped closer, their bodies now just inches apart in the dim corridor. "Then why did he say you brought me into the company?"
"Because I did," he said after a long pause, voice lower now, almost careful. "I saw your file. Your pitch from last year. I pushed for you behind the scenes because I knew you could shake things up."
Mia's breath hitched. "So… this wasn't just some coincidence?"
He shook his head. "It was deliberate. I wanted you here."
Her stomach flipped. There was something dangerous about the way he looked at her now—like he wanted to say more, but something was holding him back.
Before she could ask, the door at the end of the hallway creaked open.
A man stepped out—older, lean, in a dark suit that didn't quite fit the tone of the office. He held a sleek folder, but what caught Mia's attention was the way he stared at her.
As if he knew her.
As if he'd been waiting.
Lucas stiffened immediately. "Mr. Doyle… You're not usually here this late."
"I go where the records go," the man said, his voice low and slippery. His eyes didn't leave Mia. "And I've found something interesting. Miss Hart… may I have a word with you? Alone."
Lucas stepped in front of her instinctively. "That won't be necessary. She's with me."
The man smiled without warmth. "I think once she sees what I found, she'll want to come with me."
Mia's blood chilled.
Lucas's jaw twitched.
And then the man handed her the folder.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
The first page was a photo.
Of her father.
Standing beside a man she'd never seen before… wearing the company's logo on his jacket, twenty years ago.
And on the bottom corner of the page, stamped in faded ink, were three letters that stopped her cold:
CEO.