The meeting was over. Chairs scraped back. Papers shuffled. Alexander stood, straightened the cuffs of his shirt, and without a single glance in her direction , he walked out, no words, no defense.
Emily's eyes followed him to the door, her lips parted in disbelief. How could he let them talk to me like that? The weight of his silence echoed louder than anything Erica had said.
She was still staring at the door when the sting of reality slapped her. The room hadn't emptied. Half the team was still there—watching her.
In a sudden motion, she slammed her palm down on the table, the sharp sound reverberating through the quiet room. A few gasps followed. All eyes turned to her.
Emily drew a breath, long and tight, and steadied herself. She couldn't lose control. Not here.
From the corner of the room, Erica rose with that ever-infuriating smirk. Her heels clicked rhythmically against the polished floor as she walked over.
"It's barely been two weeks since your little… relationship with Alexander got leaked." Erica's voice was calm but laced with mockery. "Don't lose your sanity now, oh dear Emily. You've still got a show to put on."
Emily clenched her fists at her sides, but her expression remained unreadable. Cold. Collected.
"Will that be all, ma'am?" she asked coolly.
Erica narrowed her eyes, clearly irked by the lack of a reaction. With a flick of her wrist, she motioned toward the door. "Leave."
Emily didn't give her the satisfaction of a second glance. She turned and walked out, her heels echoing a quiet defiance as she left the conference room behind.
—
In Alexander's office, the atmosphere was vastly different.
The knock was soft, almost hesitant.
"Come in," Alexander said, without looking up from the report on his desk.
It was Andrew.
Alexander's expression shifted subtly—this wasn't who he expected.
"Sir," Andrew said, stepping in and holding out a sleek black tablet. "I still can't find anything solid on Miss Emily. It's like she barely existed before she joined us. Just primary, secondary, and tertiary institutions on record. And even those seem… too clean."
Alexander leaned back in his chair, intrigued. "Too clean?"
Andrew nodded. "I contacted some of her former schools. Everyone says the same thing—good girl, polite, smart. But after she lost her parents, she transferred three times. Finally, she ended up at—" He paused. "Actually, I haven't been able to trace the final school yet. Just that it's somewhere in Alderidge. No digital records. But one of her former teachers mentioned writing her a recommendation."
Alexander placed his fingers beneath his chin and narrowed his eyes.
"Alderidge," he repeated. "We'll go there. You and I."
"Yes, sir," Andrew replied, then hesitated. "And… the tattoo. Should I keep digging?"
There was a beat of silence.
Alexander's gaze lifted slowly to meet Andrew's—and it was cold enough to freeze stone.
Andrew swallowed hard. "Understood."
Before Alexander could speak, there was another knock at the door.
This time, it was her.
Emily stepped in, her expression unreadable, her gaze fixed on Alexander as though the earlier meeting never happened.
Alexander straightened. Andrew gave her a quick glance, nodded politely, and excused himself with the tablet in hand.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Now it was just the two of them.
Emily and Alexander.
And the tension they both pretended not to feel.
Emily stepped in.
She didn't speak. She didn't smile. She didn't move further than she had to. Her eyes, calm but burning with something unnamed, just stared at Alexander.
He didn't look up at first. Still leaning back in his chair, one arm resting on the table, the other toying with a pen between his fingers, he didn't acknowledge her presence. Not immediately. He didn't need to.
But after a few long seconds, he finally glanced up, brows slightly raised.
"What do you want, Miss Emily?" His voice was cool, detached, yet sharp enough to slice through the heavy silence.
Without a word, Emily walked forward and dropped a folder on his desk with a soft thud. Then she turned, already heading for the door.
But just as her hand reached for the handle—thwack!
A silver knife, clean and precise, slammed into the door just inches from her face. It didn't come from Alexander's hand. It had been there, tucked into a concealed holder on his desk—something she didn't notice before. But now, it trembled against the wood, a whisper of a warning.
Emily froze.
She didn't scream, but her breath caught in her throat, and her hand remained midair. Her heart pounded, yet her eyes darted, wide and alert, catching the gleam of the blade just beside her cheek.
"Where do you think you're going?" Alexander's voice dropped lower now—still calm, but dangerous.
He rose from his seat slowly, his tall frame casting a quiet dominance across the room. "Is that how you give something to your boss?" he asked, circling the desk with slow, deliberate steps.
Emily didn't turn to face him. Not immediately. She let the moment stretch. Then, finally, she lowered her hand from the door handle and turned, facing him again—eyes steady now, though the echo of the knife still lingered in her pulse.
Alexander took another step toward her, stopping just a breath too close. He reached around her casually, pulled the knife from the door, and placed it back on the desk with care.
Then he leaned in slightly. "If you want to walk out of this room, Emily, next time… make sure your hands don't shake."
Emily's lips parted just slightly, but no words came. She held her gaze, nodded once, subtle and slow, and turned to leave again—this time, with measured steps, her face unreadable.
Behind her, Alexander watched every move.
The door shut behind her with a soft but final click.
Emily's heels tapped quietly as she made her way down the hallway, each step slower than the last. She wasn't rushing — she couldn't. Not after what just happened.
She didn't even realize her breathing had changed until she stepped out and saw Andrew standing near the window across the hall, tablet still in hand.
He looked up as soon as he heard the door.
Their eyes met.
Andrew didn't say anything right away. But he didn't need to. His eyes searched her face, then drifted to her slightly trembling hands.
"You're not alright," he said gently, not as a question — a statement.
Emily stood there, lips pressed together, trying to gather herself. She adjusted her shirt collar, one button still crooked from earlier. Her expression was calm… too calm. That kind of stillness that came when someone was doing everything not to fall apart.
"I'm fine," she finally said, voice soft and unconvincing.
Andrew stepped closer, lowering the tablet to his side.
"Did he say something to you?"
"No."
Then she added, "He didn't have to."
Andrew's brows furrowed slightly. His instinct was to say something — to defend Alexander, maybe, or to ask again what happened inside that room. But he knew Alexander. And he knew when Emily walked in, Alexander wasn't in the mood for anything gentle.
"I'm just doing my job," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Andrew hesitated. "If you ever need to talk—"
"I don't."
And with that, Emily turned and walked away, shoulders straight, spine stiff. But Andrew watched her, watched how the hallway lights caught the strain in her neck, the rigid hold of her breath, and the fists she clenched again once she thought no one was watching.
He didn't know what exactly happened in that room.
Alexander's cold gaze hadn't softened, but the office door suddenly swung open. In walked his two brothers—Jude and Jason—casually dressed and loud as always. Andrew trailed behind them, visibly exhausted already.
Jason spoke first, arms wide like he'd just landed in paradise. "Aha! So this is the famous lair of our little brother."
Jude let out a whistle as he stepped in. "We were beginning to think you were married to the company, Alex. Or maybe to Andrew." He glanced back at Andrew who just shook his head.
Alexander didn't respond.
Jason continued, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "We honestly thought you were gay. That's why we gave you space. Respect, you know?"
Jude nodded in agreement. "Exactly! We didn't want to ruin your journey of self-discovery. But now…" he grinned, "Now that it's confirmed you're into women—engaged even—we can finally be proper brothers again."
The two of them moved closer to Alexander, each trying to drape an arm around his shoulders.
"Don't touch me," Alexander said sharply, rising from his chair in one fluid motion. He shoved their arms off with ease, like they were nothing but flies. "This is an office. Respect yourselves."
"Ooooh," Jason mocked, laughing as he backed off. "Still cold."
"Still dramatic," Jude added, falling into one of the chairs like he owned the place.
Andrew stood silently by the door, lips tight, trying not to laugh as he watched the usual madness unfold.
Alexander simply sat back down, clearly unamused. "If you two are done with whatever this is, get to the point. Or get out."
Jude leaned forward, smirking, elbows on the desk like he owned the place. "We just wanted to see the woman who melted the Ice King."
Jason chuckled. "An engagement, Alexander? You? We didn't see that coming."
Alexander didn't look up from the file in front of him. "You were on a cruise."
Jude raised a brow. "A cruise we took because you're usually too busy acting like the world is beneath you."
Andrew shifted uncomfortably at the side, but remained silent.
Jude added, half-laughing, "We always said you were too emotionally constipated to be interested in anyone. Thought maybe you just weren't into women."
Jason nodded, grinning. "Exactly. That's why we kept our distance. But now… confirmed. You can be human."
Alexander finally looked up, cold and precise. "You'll see her when I want you to see her."
The room went silent for a beat. Jude put a hand to his chest dramatically. "Oof. There it is."
Jude turned to Jason and muttered, "He's still the same."
Then both of them stood, strolling toward Alexander's chair like two children eager to provoke their older sibling. They each leaned in, attempting to sling an arm over his shoulders.
Alexander pushed them off with practiced calm, not harshly, but firmly. "This is my office. Try acting like adults."
Jason laughed, stepping back. "Yes, sir."
Jude grinned. "Relax, we're just happy to see you alive and talking to someone who doesn't carry a gun or wear a lab coat."
Andrew who was silent muttered to himself but still loud enough that everyone in the room could hear, " she wears a lab coat though."
Alexander's gaze didn't flinch from theirs. That icy calmness returned like a storm waiting for command.
"You'll see her," he said quietly, "when I want you to."
Jason raised both brows. "Ouch."
Jude smirked, nudging his brother. "He's being all possessive. It's cute."
Alexander stood up.
In one controlled motion, he moved from behind his desk and stood in front of them, hands in his pockets, gaze like steel.
"This isn't a playground," he said flatly. "You're not in my house. You're in my office. And the next time you both feel like strolling in uninvited to entertain yourselves—don't."
Jason scoffed, half amused. "Come on, little brother, we're just messing around."
"Out."
The command was cold. Unflinching.
Jude hesitated, the playful grin faltering for a second. Jason chuckled nervously, adjusting his collar. "Okay. Okay. We get it."
They began to walk toward the door, and just before stepping out, Jason glanced back over his shoulder. "Still weird, though. You, in love. Or whatever this is."
Alexander's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. His silence alone was enough to make the air go sharp. He made a small murmur to himself, "such idiots."
The door clicked shut behind them.
He stood there for a few seconds longer, eyes on the door, face unreadable—stone carved in shadow.
Then slowly, he walked back to his chair, sat down, and leaned back, the storm in him refusing to pass.
Downstairs, the atmosphere in the reception lobby was still and glassy, humming faintly with the low chatter of passing staff and the whir of machines. Emily stood near the side table where the complimentary coffee was brewing—dark, rich, and bitter, just like her thoughts.
She held the paper cup loosely in her fingers, waiting for it to fill, her mind already drifting. But then—
The glass doors slid open.
Two tall figures strolled out from the elevator like they owned the building. Identical in frame, identical in stride, and unmistakably Velmonte.
Emily blinked.
Her hand stilled on the coffee machine.
The twins.
They walked past her without a glance, chatting and nudging each other like overgrown children, their laughter echoing faintly as they made their way out. Dressed in sharp designer suits but carrying an air of recklessness, they looked nothing like Alexander… but something about their faces—too familiar.
Her eyes followed them until the doors closed behind them.
I've seen them before… but where?
She frowned.
It wasn't in the company photos. It wasn't just from the announcement about the Velmonte family either. It was something else or somewhere else.
A hazy flash crossed her memory—a distant moment, barely a glimpse. A photograph maybe? No. A news headline? Maybe from her research…
She shook her head, trying to clear it.
Maybe I'm just overthinking things again. It's probably nothing.
Coffee in hand, Emily turned away from the entrance and made her way to the elevator. The mirrored doors opened with a soft ding, and she stepped inside. Her reflection caught her eye—calm, composed, but her eyes… they were stormy.
As the doors closed and she began her ascent back to her floor, one thought lingered in the back of her mind, stubborn and quiet:
Why did it feel like I knew them… before all of this even began?