The hospital reeked of bleach and suffocating despair. Mira Collins sat by her mother's bedside, holding a hand that had always been warm and comforting, now so fragile. Machines beeped steadily beside them, each one marking a countdown she couldn't stop. The doctors had given her three weeks; that was all her mother had left without further treatment. But the treatment cost money, money she didn't have. Her phone buzzed with a message from her best friend, Amy: "Come to Steele Corp. Now. I got you something."
Mira had only encountered Steele Corp in tall buildings and glossy magazines. Adrian Steele—the frosty, merciless CEO—was said to possess everything valuable in the city. Mira felt out of place. Yet, desperation ignored social class and qualifications. Dressed in her least expensive blazer, she sat in a stark lobby of glass, steel, and quiet. As she fidgeted with the hem of her tattered skirt, her anxious eyes flicked toward the sleek elevator, which stood like an entrance to another world.
Amy met her in the lobby, phone in hand and lips curved into a tight smile. "There's a vacancy. Executive assistant to the CEO. I pushed your name."
Mira blinked. "Are you serious? I don't have the background for that."
"You have desperation," Amy said flatly. "And believe me, that's all he sees. It might be enough. Just… don't say too much. He'll do all the talking."
Before Mira could respond, the assistant at the front desk called her name. The elevator doors slid open.
---
The top floor of Steele Corp was colder and quieter. The air smelled of expensive cologne and ambition. Adrian Steele's office had glass walls, overlooking the entire city like a throne room. He stood up when she walked in—tall, sharply dressed, with eyes the colour of winter storms, sharp and unreadable, landed on her like she was something to be studied and not welcomed.
"You know who I am?" he asked, not offering a hand.
"Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Then you know I don't offer second chances or mercy
She nodded.
"Why are you here, Mira Collins?"
She hesitated, then said, "Because my mother is dying. And I have no other way to save her."
Adrian studied her for a long, unnerving moment. Then he turned to the window. "Desperation is honest. And I value honesty more than competence." Silence stretched between them. Then he spoke again. "You start tomorrow, 8 AM. Don't be late." Handing her the job offer letter.
As she clutched the letter, her fingers trembled. Relief washed over her like a wave, but beneath it, guilt churned. She was stepping into a world she didn't understand, one far from the hospital hallways and overdue bills. Could she balance both?
---
Her first weeks at Steele Corp were a blur. She wore borrowed clothes from Amy, survived on vending machine coffee, and tried not to flinch every time Adrian's voice echoed through his office. Her job seemed simple: schedule meetings, take notes, handle calls. But it wasn't the tasks that unnerved her—it was Adrian.
He watched her. Always. Sometimes she'd catch his gaze lingering, unreadable. Not lustful. Not curious. Calculated. As if she were an equation he was solving.
Then came the first note.
"Room 41. Midnight. No questions." She stared at it for hours, unsure if it was a test. Amy didn't say anything when Mira mentioned it—just gave her a strange look and said, "Do what you're told."
That night, Mira stood outside Room 41, heart pounding. It was hidden in a part of the building she'd never entered before—dim hallways, carpeted floors, doors without labels. She entered.
The room was dark, furnished with black leather furniture, soft lighting, and an eerie silence. Adrian stood at the centre, his hands clasped behind his back.
He didn't speak for a full minute. Then, "Sit." She obeyed
"Kneel."
She gasped.
"Mira, I don't touch what's not mine. But I do expect obedience."
Her voice shook. "What is this?"
"This is how I know you understand who holds the power here."
She dropped to her knees. Not for lust, for survival.
---
From that moment on, she belonged to two lives. During the day, for emails, meetings, and polite smiles. The night was for commands, silence, and control.
Adrian never laid a hand on her. But he owned her completely. Her mother's hospital bills were paid. A monthly stipend appeared in her account. Her apartment was safe, different from before when she had to tiptoe between hope and fear every day. But she was barely holding it together.
Liam opened the door with concern in his eyes. Tall and calm, with warm brown skin and eyes that always made her feel safe. He was the kind of man who asked how you were and truly listened...
"You look like you haven't slept, you've changed," he said one night over dinner. "You're distant."
"I'm tired," she lied
He kissed her forehead and pulled her into a hug that made her feel human again. "We'll get through this."
But he didn't know. Couldn't know.
She was drowning in something she couldn't name.
---
One evening, she walked into Adrian's office late. Her chest ached with tension.
"I want to quit," she said.
He didn't look up from his desk. "You're free to walk. But the money stops. Your mother's treatment ends. Her fate returns to your hands."
Tears welled in her eyes, and he finally looked up. "You knew the cost when you accepted the offer."
Her voice cracked. "You never told me this was part of the deal."
"You never asked."
And that was the moment she realized: it wasn't a contract that bound her. It was a need. She left the room in silence, her soul heavier than ever.
Her phone buzzed. Liam. She didn't answer.
In Adrian's world, silence was survival. But in her heart, a quiet storm had begun to rage.