The cafeteria at Marcone never felt relaxed. Even at lunch, it carried the sharp scent of hierarchy—voices measured, laughter controlled, eyes always watching who sat with whom.
Selena Kang Charlotte sat alone near the glass wall overlooking the city, her posture straight, shoulders relaxed in the way only people who never feared their surroundings could manage. A thin file lay open beside her tray, untouched food cooling beside it.
Adrian noticed her before she noticed him.
He paused mid-step, scanning the room instinctively, and then smiled—slow, deliberate—when his gaze landed on her. There was something irritatingly composed about the way she existed, like the world adjusted itself around her rather than the other way around.
He walked over without asking.
"You know," he said casually, pulling the chair back with his foot, "for someone who could afford to eat anywhere in the city, you consistently choose the place with the worst coffee."
Selena didn't look up. "I don't drink it."
"Then that explains your mood."
She finally raised her eyes, cool and unimpressed. "And you being here explains mine."
Adrian sat anyway, stretching his legs out slightly like he owned the space. "You always greet me like I've personally ruined your day."
"You overestimate your impact," she replied. "You're more… background noise."
He chuckled softly. "Cold. Efficient. Slightly cruel. You ever worry that one day you'll run out of people willing to tolerate you?"
Selena closed the file with a quiet snap. "No. People don't tolerate me. They adapt."
There was a pause. Adrian studied her face, the way her expression didn't shift even when she spoke something sharp. No wasted emotion. No unnecessary reaction.
"That's one way to live," he said. "Another is letting people think they're winning."
She tilted her head. "Is that how you survive? By convincing others you're harmless?"
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Harmless men don't last here."
"Neither do careless ones."
Their eyes locked—brief, assessing. Not hostile. Not friendly. Something more precise.
"Morales," Adrian said suddenly. "Yesterday."
Selena didn't blink. "What about him?"
"Messy business," he continued lightly. "Funny how the mess disappeared so quickly."
Her lips curved, barely. "Funny how people who ask too many questions tend to disappear too."
He laughed under his breath. "You really enjoy reminding people you're dangerous."
"No," she corrected. "I enjoy reminding them I'm honest."
He leaned back again, arms folding. "Careful. One day someone might mistake that for arrogance."
She stood, picking up her tablet. "And one day someone might mistake your charm for intelligence."
She didn't wait for his reply.
Adrian watched her walk away, heels striking marble with calm authority, drawing glances without asking for them. His smile faded—not offended, but thoughtful.
That woman, he thought, doesn't bluff.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Meetings blurred together. Emails stacked. Decisions were made and forgotten.
Until the owner's assistant appeared beside Selena's desk.
"Ms. Kang," he said carefully. "The Chairman would like to see you."
She looked up slowly. "Now?"
"Yes."
She nodded once. "I'll be there."
She gathered her files with unhurried precision, placing them in a neat stack before locking her desk drawer. She didn't ask why. She never did.
The Chairman didn't offer pleasantries.
"Sit," he said.
She did.
"You've been efficient lately," he began.
"That's my role."
"You've also been observant."
She met his gaze. "That's my survival."
A faint smile flickered across his face. "Adrian Zhao."
Her expression didn't change, but her attention sharpened.
"He's begun operating outside acceptable parameters," the Chairman continued. "Information rerouted. Influence consolidated."
Selena's fingers rested loosely on her knee. "He's ambitious."
"Ambition without permission is disobedience."
She understood where this was going before he said it.
"I want him eliminated."
The words hung in the air.
Selena exhaled slowly. "You want him dead."
"I want Marcone stable," the Chairman corrected. "His death ensures that."
A brief silence.
"Why now?" she asked.
"He believes himself untouchable," the Chairman said. "Men like that make mistakes."
"And you want me to be the mistake," she replied.
He studied her carefully. "You don't hesitate. You don't leak. And you don't fail."
She nodded once. Then, unexpectedly, a faint smirk touched her lips.
"I've waited for this," she said quietly. "He's been in my way longer than you think."
"Can you do it?"
She stood. "He won't see it coming."
The following day, Adrian sat alone in his office when the call came.
"The Chairman wants to see you."
He knew before he arrived.
Still, the words struck harder than expected.
"You've grown difficult to control," the Chairman said.
Adrian didn't deny it. "Control was never your strength. You preferred loyalty."
"Loyalty ends when it challenges authority."
Adrian leaned forward. "So what's the verdict?"
"Selena Kang Charlotte," the Chairman said calmly. "She needs to be removed."
Adrian stiffened.
"She's loyal," he said slowly. "Brutally so."
"She's dangerous," the Chairman replied. "And she doesn't belong to anyone but herself."
A pause.
"You want me to kill her."
"I want you to ensure she never acts against Marcone."
Adrian laughed quietly, disbelief edged with something darker. "So you arm both sides and watch who bleeds first."
The Chairman didn't answer.
Adrian left in silence.
He sat alone afterward, staring at the city through the glass.
Selena.
Sharp. Controlled. Unforgiving.
If she'd been given the same order…
His jaw tightened.
The next morning, Selena appeared at his door.
"Do you have a moment?" she asked.
Adrian smiled. "For you? Always."
The door closed behind her.
And outside, the rumors began.
Selena closed the door behind her without locking it.
Adrian noticed that first.
She didn't sit immediately. Instead, she walked toward the window, heels clicking softly against the floor, eyes scanning the city like she was measuring something invisible.
"You called?" Adrian said, leaning back in his chair, watching her reflection in the glass.
She turned slowly. "I needed clarity on the Kestrel file."
He raised a brow. "That's not my jurisdiction."
"Not officially."
She finally sat, crossing her legs with deliberate ease. "But you've been pulling strings around it. Quietly."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Careful, Selena. Accusations tend to echo."
"I'm not accusing," she replied. "I'm verifying."
There it was—that edge. Not hostile. Surgical.
Adrian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "You don't usually ask permission."
"I don't usually need to," she said evenly. "But this case intersects with mine."
He studied her face longer than necessary. "You're tense."
"Observant," she corrected.
"Distracted," he countered. "That's rare for you."
Her lips curved faintly. "You're projecting."
Silence stretched. Heavy, deliberate.
He broke it first. "What do you want to know?"
She slid a tablet across the desk. "Your source. The secondary safehouse. Why it was rerouted."
Adrian glanced at the screen, then back at her. "You don't trust the answer I'll give."
"I trust patterns," she said. "Not people."
"That almost sounds personal."
"Everything here is personal," she replied coolly. "We just pretend it's business."
He laughed under his breath. "That's the most honest thing you've said to me."
She didn't deny it.
Outside his office, a junior analyst slowed as she passed, pretending to check her phone. Two assistants near the elevators exchanged looks. Someone whispered.
Inside, neither Selena nor Adrian noticed immediately—or pretended not to.
"You're asking questions you don't need answers to," Adrian said softly. "That's dangerous."
"So is withholding information," she replied. "Yet here we are."
Their eyes held.
Something shifted—not warmth, not trust—but recognition. Two predators circling the same fire.
Adrian finally leaned back. "The safehouse was compromised. I adjusted."
"Without authorization?"
"With discretion."
She tilted her head. "That word seems popular lately."
He watched her carefully. "Is this what this is about? Authorization?"
"No," she said. "This is about timing."
He exhaled slowly. "You're planning something."
She stood. "Everyone here is."
She paused at the door, hand resting on the handle.
"Adrian," she added, without turning. "If you hear rumors about us—ignore them."
He smiled faintly. "Why? Afraid they're true?"
She glanced back, eyes sharp. "Afraid they'll get someone killed."
She left.
By evening, the building was alive with quiet speculation.
Two assistants whispered near the coffee machine.
"They were alone in his office for nearly half an hour."
"Again?"
"Again."
At another floor, someone joked too loudly about power couples and ambition. At a desk near the windows, an analyst murmured that closeness inside Marcone was rarely accidental.
Adrian heard fragments as he walked past.
Selena felt eyes on her everywhere.
Neither addressed it.
That night, Adrian sat alone in his office long after the lights dimmed.
Selena doesn't ask unless she already knows something, he thought.
And she never lingers unless there's a reason.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, replaying her tone, her timing, the way she'd looked at him—not like an enemy, not like an ally.
Like a calculation.
Meanwhile, Selena stood in her apartment, heels discarded, gun disassembled on the table in front of her.
Adrian Zhao Wei.
The name felt heavier than it should have.
She reassembled the weapon with practiced ease, her thoughts steady, controlled.
Get close. Confirm patterns. Strike clean.
That's all this is.
But the rumors followed her even into silence.
And for the first time in years, she wondered which would kill her faster—hesitation, or certainty.