The office was unusually quiet that afternoon, but Lily Carter still noticed the cracks in Alexander Knight's perfect rhythm.
Normally, Alex was a machine. Meetings stacked like dominoes, each one falling neatly into the next. Emails replied to in clipped, precise lines. Coffee sipped at the exact same point in the morning. A man of order. A man of control.
But lately, something was… off.
She'd catch him staring too long at the skyline, his pen hovering motionless above a document. Or the faint crease in his brow, deeper than usual, as if something invisible pressed down on him.
At first, Lily thought she was imagining it. But the slip-ups grew.
"Mr. Knight," she said carefully that afternoon, flipping her notepad shut, "you just repeated the word 'quarterly' four times in the last thirty seconds. Which, don't get me wrong, really hammers home your love for quarterly reports, but…" She tilted her head. "Do I need to call IT to reboot you?"
His gaze snapped to hers, cold and sharp, but a little too delayed—like he'd been dragged back from somewhere far away. "Do your job, Miss Carter."
Lily blinked, then offered a mock salute. "Aye-aye, Captain Quarterly."
Normally, she'd leave it at that. But today, as she returned to her desk, unease lingered. He wasn't angry at her. That much she could tell. No, whatever was eating at him, it was deeper. Older.
And Lily Carter—who always poked where she shouldn't—suddenly wanted to know what ghost haunted the Ice King.
______________
Years earlier…
The university's grand lecture hall buzzed with energy, the kind that came before a big academic debate. Students filled the tiered seats, their voices rising in anticipation.
At the center sat the three stars of the business faculty: Alexander Knight, Elijah Williams, and Katherine.
The debate was corporate responsibility, a topic that could bore most to death. But with Elijah on the stage, boredom was impossible.
"Corporations," Elijah declared, his voice ringing with charisma, "owe their communities more than just jobs. They owe transparency, integrity, and reinvestment. To do anything less is theft—of people's trust, of their future."
The audience erupted in applause, several students even whistling. Elijah flashed his trademark grin, soaking in the reaction.
Beside him in the audience, Katherine leaned forward, her eyes bright with admiration. "He's right," she whispered, not to anyone in particular.
Alex sat stone-still. His posture was immaculate, his expression calm. Only the tightening of his jaw betrayed him.
When it was his turn, Alex rose, the very picture of poise. He didn't need to shout like Elijah. His voice was measured, cool, precise.
"Idealism," he began, "is admirable. But let us not confuse business with philanthropy. A company's first duty is survival. Without profit, there is no growth. Without growth, there are no jobs, no progress. Responsibility begins with sustainability."
Polite nods. A ripple of agreement. He was logical, irrefutable.
But then Elijah fired back, eyes blazing. "Survival without purpose is hollow. What good is a corporation if it survives by bleeding its people dry?"
The hall exploded in cheers. Katherine's lips curved in a smile—directed not at Alex, but at Elijah.
Something twisted violently in Alex's chest. It wasn't the debate. He could win or lose arguments with ease. No, it was the way her gaze lingered on Elijah's fire, as if drawn to it.
Alex's fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He schooled his expression, hiding the storm behind his mask. But inside, jealousy—sharp, corrosive—was already taking root.
______________
Back in the present, Lily shuffled through reports, stealing glances at Alex.
He was seated at his desk, pen hovering above a contract, his eyes unfocused.
"Careful," she said casually, tapping her pen against her chin. "If you stare at that page any longer, it's going to sue you for harassment."
His head turned slowly, his gaze icy. "Miss Carter."
"Yes, that's me," she chirped, unfazed. "Your friendly neighborhood assistant. Just wondering if you've secretly been abducted by aliens. Blink twice if you need help."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Do your work."
She pouted dramatically but went back to typing. Still, her thoughts ran wild.
He's not himself. He's carrying something heavy.
Melissa later leaned across Lily's desk, whispering conspiratorially. "What's with your boss today? He's moodier than usual. Did you screw up his coffee order again?"
"Not guilty," Lily whispered back. "He's… distracted."
Melissa smirked. "Distracted how? Like… romantic distraction?"
Lily rolled her eyes so hard they nearly fell out. "Please. The man's heart is carved out of ice. No, this is something else."
And for once, the banter didn't feel like a joke.
______________
That night, exhaustion dragged Lily under quickly. But the dreams came fast, sharper than ever.
The staircase loomed again—wide, wooden, polished, the kind that echoed with every step. She stood frozen at the top, her breath shallow.
"Lily!"
Her father's voice rang out, clearer now. She saw him—Wells Carter—his face vivid with panic, his eyes wide as he stumbled backward down the stairs.
His hand reached out, as if warning her. "Stay back!"
Then it happened—the slip, the fall. His body tumbled, the sound of impact sickeningly loud.
At the top, a shadow. A figure. Faceless. Watching.
Her father's voice rasped one final word as he lay broken at the bottom. "Lily…"
She screamed—only no sound came out.
She bolted awake, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving. For a long moment, she sat clutching her blanket, the dream replaying in relentless detail.
It wasn't just a nightmare.
It felt like a memory.
Her whisper filled the silent room. "Why… why does it feel real?"
______________
Across the city, Alexander Knight sat alone in his penthouse study. The skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, but his focus was elsewhere.
In his hand was a photograph—old, edges frayed. Three students, smiling under the afternoon sun. Elijah with his carefree grin. Katherine with her radiant smile. And Alex himself, standing tall, his expression calm but proud.
He stared at it for a long time, his chest heavy.
He remembered the debates, Katherine's quiet smiles, Elijah's fire. He remembered how jealousy had burned him from the inside out.
And he remembered what came after—the betrayal, the fracture, the silence that never healed.
His fingers tightened on the photograph until the paper bent. He closed his eyes, pressing the weight of memory back down where it belonged.
But the past was relentless.
______________
Lily sat curled on her couch, hugging her knees, her father's voice still echoing in her head. She couldn't shake the image of the blurred figure at the top of the stairs. The shadow felt too close, too real.
At the same time, Alex sat in his penthouse, the photograph lying face-down on his desk, a glass of scotch untouched beside it. His eyes lingered on the empty space across the room, as if expecting someone to fill it.
Two souls, awake in the dark.
Both haunted. Both scarred. Both carrying shadows they didn't yet understand.
And neither knew how deeply their ghosts were already intertwined.
______________