The drive to Blake Beauty International was longer than it needed to be, the city traffic, indifferent and endless, sliding past tinted windows. Ansel’s hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his thoughts a hundred miles behind him, somewhere back in that charged, silent office. Mr. Blake's visit had left an unpleasant, cloying aftertasteHe saw the image again, Sophia's father calmly discussing guest lists and the Grand Regency Ballroom's signature champagne with an agent from some high-powered event planning firm. Not one of them, in their meticulous planning, had bothered to ask what he wanted. And the idea irked him, with a vehemence that surprised him. Thirty minutes later, Ansel pulled his car into the private underground lot of Blake Beauty International, a vast, glittering monument to commerce that scraped the sky, emblazoned with the brand’s iconic beauty campaigns across its upper reaches. Security was subtle but omnipresent around the private entrance. Sophia, the

The city still like, a smear of pre-dawn grey when Ansel Yorke’s elevator doors hissed open on the executive floor. The hallway stretched out in front of him, a silent, grey artery leading from an off-light corridor to an even dimmer ceiling. Pools of shadow gathered in the corners, elongated and lean like smudged notes from last night, ready to be washed away by the coming day. He stepped onto the carpet in a series of rhythmic footsteps-steady, controlled, if his inner world felt less composed. He hadn't slept., he spent hours in the dark of his penthouse suite, the silence deafening."Because I’m pregnant." Sophia’s words hadn’t faded. They seemed etched in some place behind his eyes, Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her, holding that documents was proof and , that question that lingered, not echoing but embedded."But will you ever love me?"He loosened his tie as he walked into his office. It was cold inside, or felt cold, despite the temperature setting. Or maybe not t

A chilling nascent understanding spread with absolutely no sense of satisfaction. He’d see Ansel later that day, the soft, encroaching afternoon light now stretching across his desk as lengthening shadows crawled over it. Ansel sat in his chair, nearly as unmoving as if he’d been occupying the same physical space for hours though Carlos doubted he’d actually occupied any of those hours in any meaningful way. "So. It's done," Carlos said quietly. Ansel didn't lift his eyes. "Yes." "You signed off." "Yes." The terse replies hung between them like a fragile cobweb. Carlos took a few steps into the room and crossed his arms. "Business put it in motion?" No answer. "Or her?" This was the question that finally drew a brief, measured glance from behind his desk. "What difference does it make?" Carlos’s smile was a tight, humourless line. “It makes all the difference in the world. You just don’t want to admit which one it was.” Ansel’s attention returned to the documen

The following week...Lara sat on the arm of her couch, long after the city had gone to sleep beyond the harbor lights that glowed like scattered gold in my window." King's Corporation...." she breath out..."if they ever paid me a cent of the exorbitant relocation package they promised I would have pulled out the stops for this apartment." It was vast and slick and meticulously decorated with those overused, overplaced, faux-cozy bits that weren’t necessary for habitation. But the more time she spent within its walls, the more she felt like this wasn’t a space for living, but a transitional plane.Resting on the glass coffee table was an invitation. The phrase printed on a deceptively simple card bearing the name of Daniel Reyes . "Just a professional courtesy," she said when she slid it across her gigantic desk, the smile both welcoming and unsettlingly shrewd. "An opportunity to discuss alignment of expectations." And as she’d stared at it, her mind conjured not ink and pape

As the car entered a less busy area, a building loomed large in their periphery. The Tall, sleek, and brand new with glinting glasses reflecting the fading sunlight in a shy, almost humble manner everything that HQ wasn't. It should have been easy to simply enter and leave, just a routine, just business. Yet, the air in Ansel's stomach began to tighten the moment the building became visible. The interior was completely different. No competitive spirit lurking in the air. It was filled with a quiet hum of purposeful activities; the staff moved with efficiency rather than hurried haste. There were no political schemes being plotted behind the cubicles like at HQ, just efficient workflow. It felt so… calm… so out of place that Ansel felt like an intruder, a trespasser into a world of his company where his presence no longer held any value. Carlos walked a couple of steps behind him, acknowledging few employees who straightened at their approach with a brief nod. Ripples of recogni