Axton sat in his office long after the last of his staff had gone home, the city outside blanketed in restless light. The skyline glittered, but to him it looked more like static than stars. His hand rested on the mouse, frozen on the final frame of the security footage that had changed everything.
Vivian.
It wasn't just the violation of trust that cut deep.
It was the way she'd done it so easily, so confidently, as if she had planned this for months. Maybe she had.
Axton leaned back, rubbing his temples, eyes hard with restrained fury. He had known Vivian for years, trusted her with sensitive projects, and given her influence most executives would kill for. She was sharp, strategic, and never made careless mistakes. Except for this one.
She didn't know about the hidden camera in his office.
The moment he discovered the breach, Axton had already begun damage control discreetly. He had no intention of alerting her that he knew.
Not yet.
Vivian thrived on control, and the moment she believed she still had it, she would reveal her next move. He needed that.
Because when he finally struck, there would be no escape.
For now, he allowed her to believe he was too busy cleaning up the chaos she had caused — the leaks, the sudden client withdrawals, the whispered accusations about his philanthropy. She must have thought she'd buried him under the weight of her schemes.
He almost smiled at that thought.
Let her think he was distracted. Let her think he was too consumed with rebuilding to notice her. Because every move she made from here on would become evidence, and every word she spoke could be used to destroy her.
Still, he needed proof — more than just footage. He needed to know who she was working with, who was benefiting from the leaks. If he went to the board without that, it would be his word against hers. And Vivian was too good at playing innocent.
So he waited.
The sound of heels echoed through the near-empty corridor, each click measured and confident. The clock above the frosted glass door read 10:47 p.m. Most of the building had long gone dark, but Axton's office still glowed faintly — the only light on the entire floor.
Vivian didn't bother knocking. She turned the handle and stepped inside, her silhouette cutting through the dim glow of the city skyline behind him.
"Burning the midnight oil again?" Vivian's voice was smooth.
She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, an easy smile curving her lips. "You'll give the rest of us a complex if you keep this up."
Axton's eyes stayed on the screen, the dim glow of the monitor painting his features in cold light. "Some of us still have work to do," he said quietly.
"You know, there's a word for people who don't leave the office."
"Workaholic?"
She smiled and crossed the room, her heels sinking into the thick carpet as she approached his desk. "I was thinking control freak, but that works too."
She perched herself on the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. "You've been working yourself into the ground lately," she said lightly. "Maybe it's time you came up for air."
Axton's fingers stilled over the mouse. He looked up slowly, his gaze unreadable. "You came all the way up here to tell me that?"
Vivian tilted her head, her smile unwavering. "Maybe I just missed your company." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her diamond earring catching the low light. "There's a new place downtown. Private booths, good whiskey, live jazz. We could go. Unwind a little. You could use it."
He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking quietly under his weight. The silence stretched, heavy but controlled. His eyes traced her face, not with admiration, but assessment. Every gesture, every flicker of charm.
He'd seen it all before, used as a weapon against others. It didn't work on him anymore.
"Tempting," he said after a long pause, his voice calm, even. "But I'm not interested."
Vivian blinked, masking her surprise with a low laugh. "Not interested in jazz or in me?"
"In wasting time," he said, his tone clipped.
For the first time, her composure wavered. Only slightly; the smallest tension around her mouth and the faintest narrowing of her eyes.
"You've been cold lately," she said, sliding off the desk to stand closer. "Distant. I'm starting to think I've done something to offend you."
He raised a brow. "You mean besides waltzing in uninvited at eleven at night?"
She smiled, unbothered. "Come on, Axton. We used to be a good team. Don't tell me you've forgotten that."
"I haven't forgotten," he said, voice low. "I just learned to see things for what they really are."
Her lips parted slightly, but before she could respond, he stood, pushing his chair back with quiet finality. "If you're here to discuss work, do it in the morning. If you're here to play games, find someone else to entertain you."
Vivian masked her irritation with another soft laugh. "You make it sound like I'm trying to seduce you."
"You are," he said simply. "And it's not working."
The words landed like a slap and the faintest edge of something sharp flashed in her eyes. But just as quickly, she recovered, lips curling into a playful smirk.
She exhaled slowly and adjusted her blazer. "Fine," she said lightly, almost to herself. "If that's how it is." She walked toward the door, each step precise, every movement reclaiming her poise. Before she left, she turned her head slightly. "If you ever decide you're tired of this... distance, you know where to find me."
The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing in the hollow quiet that followed.
His reflection in the dark screen was unreadable.
He had waited years to learn what people were capable of when they thought they couldn't be caught. And now, as the night deepened around him, Axton realized he didn't just want to expose Vivian.
He wanted her to know he had seen everything.
And when the time came, he would make sure she understood exactly how it felt to lose control.
***
The elevator doors closed behind her with a soft whoosh, sealing her in a box of reflective glass and silence. Vivian leaned against the wall, letting her shoulder press lightly against the cool metal. Her reflection stared back at her, flawless on the surface, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her. Her pulse drummed hard in her ears, rapid and insistent.
Axton's voice still echoed in her ears.
The sharpness of it. The distance.
He had never looked at her that way before.
Vivian exhaled, long and shaky. She hated that he could still do this to her — make her feel small, exposed, like a child trying to impress a man who had already made up his mind.
For years, she had built herself into someone impossible to ignore. She had clawed her way up through the company, proved herself sharper than the men who underestimated her, and earned Axton's respect inch by inch. That respect had meant more to her than she ever admitted.
Somewhere along the way, that power had turned into something else. Something she couldn't control.
She told herself it was just ambition. But when she caught herself watching him — the way his sleeves were always rolled to the elbow, the way his voice dropped when he was deep in thought — she knew it wasn't.
Vivian swallowed, pressing her palm against her stomach as the elevator descended.
How could he look at her that way tonight? Like she disgusted him. Like she was nothing.
There was a time when that same man couldn't take his eyes off her.
The memory came uninvited, vivid and cruel — the warmth of his hand on her back during a gala, his low laugh against her ear when she whispered something only he could hear. The quiet mornings in his apartment, sunlight creeping across his chest as he leaned over the counter to pour her coffee.
He used to love her. God, he had loved her.
Axton had been all intensity and restraint, the kind of man who didn't give himself easily to anyone. But when he did, he gave completely. She had been the only one who ever broke through that armour. The only one he let close enough to see the soft parts he tried to bury.
And she destroyed that.
She became obsessed. With him.
The elevator chimed softly, and she flinched. When the doors opened, the empty lobby greeted her with a wash of fluorescent light.
Vivian stepped out, heels echoing against the marble floor. The sound was too loud, too hollow. Her throat felt tight. She walked faster, passing the security desk without a word, ignoring the guard's polite nod.
Outside, the night air hit her skin like ice.
He was probably still there, sitting behind that desk, pretending she was nothing more than another name on his payroll.
She hated how much that hurt.
Vivian wrapped her arms around herself and began to walk, her reflection following her in the darkened shopfronts. Each step felt heavier than the last. The streets were mostly empty, the sound of her heels punctuating the silence like a heartbeat.
She told herself she hadn't loved him in years. That what they'd had was over the moment he started prioritizing his company over her, when he became more CEO than man. She told herself he'd chosen power over her first. That she'd only done what she had to do to survive.
But lies, even well-rehearsed ones, lost their shape under the weight of memory.
And if that were true, why did her heart ache like this?
Why did she still crave the warmth of the man who now looked at her like a stranger?
She stopped at a crossing and pressed her hand to her mouth. Her fingers were cold. Her chest ached. She blinked hard, once, twice, until the city lights blurred.
She could still feel the ghost of his hand on her skin. The way he used to trace idle circles on her wrist when they talked about nothing and everything. The way he used to kiss her like he was trying to memorize her.
And now... nothing.
She had wanted to hurt him, to remind him what it felt like to lose something he thought he controlled. But she hadn't expected this emptiness. This hollow ache sitting beneath her ribs.
Maybe it wasn't hate she had seen in his eyes tonight. Maybe it was disappointment, and that hurt her more than anything.
That thought undid her.
Vivian laughed softly, the sound catching in her throat. "God, I really am pathetic," she whispered.
She tilted her head back, staring up at the building that still bore his name in clean white letters. The top floor glowed faintly. His office.
"I didn't stop loving you," she murmured, so softly it barely carried. "You stopped loving me."
"Pathetic," she whispered again to herself.
Because for all her cunning and all her plans, she still wanted him.
"I'm not done," she murmured. Her voice trembled, but the words were steel.
Then she squared her shoulders and walked away, the city lights catching in her eyes like fire.
Across the city, in a secluded corner of a high-end café bathed in soft light and muted golds, Vivian sat across from Sebastian Kairen. The air between them was warm with roasted coffee and the sharp bite of vodka. Small clusters of patrons murmured around them, but the hum of conversation felt distant, almost irrelevant.
Here, the world narrowed to two people and a single, dangerous topic.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone who owned every room he entered, his long fingers drumming lazily against the rim of his glass.
He wore casual charm like a second skin, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes, dark and sharp, held her like a puzzle he was slowly deciphering.
"You failed to mention that they're a couple," he said, voice low and smooth.
Vivian's grip on her coffee cup tightened, her knuckles whitening against the ceramic. Her stomach clenched, and she blinked rapidly, struggling to process what he had just said. "What?"
Sebastian finally looked at her directly, lips curving in faint amusement, but there was an edge to it, like steel hidden beneath velvet. "Ah. So you didn't know either."
They're together?" Her voice was almost a whisper, trembling with disbelief, as if the words were bitter on her tongue. The café's soft jazz and the murmured chatter around them faded into a muffled haze, drowned by the sudden rush of blood in her ears.
Sebastian shrugged, the casual indifference of his movements only sharpening her frustration. "That's what he said. Told me himself, actually."
Vivian pressed her lips together, jaw tight, feeling a brittle smile tug at her mouth. It looked polished but hollow. Her hand wrapped around her coffee cup, her fingers curling tightly around it. She stirred the liquid slowly, as if moving the spoon could stir the situation back under her control.
Her eyes darkened with every turn of the swirl. "I see," she said quietly, her voice flat, controlled.
Sebastian tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his expression. "You didn't seem like the type to lose your composure. But right now, you look like you could commit a crime."
Vivian's gaze snapped up, sharp and venomous. Her lips curved into a tight, predatory line. "Don't tempt me," she warned, her voice carrying a quiet but lethal edge.
He chuckled softly, a sound that felt almost dangerous in its amusement. Leaning back, he let his eyes roam over her face, cataloguing the flare of anger and hurt, the flicker of obsession lurking behind her controlled expression.
"Why are you so obsessed with him?" His voice had softened, but the edge remained. "Axton Creighton isn't the only man with power. There are plenty like him. Hell, I'm one of them."
Vivian's smirk hardened, the curve of her lips now carrying something cold, almost cruel. "You're not him," she said, words clipped and sharp.
Sebastian arched a brow, the faintest trace of a smile lingering. "Enlighten me."
She leaned forward, closing the distance between them just enough for her intensity to press against him.
"He's mine," she whispered, soft but venomous, the words carrying weight as if they had been forged over years of longing and fury. "He was mine once. And he will be again."
Sebastian studied her carefully, swirling the melting ice in his glass as if it could dissolve the storm inside her. "And what happens," he asked slowly, "if your 'mine' doesn't want to be owned?"
Vivian's smile spread slowly, ice in the curve of her lips. "Then I'll make him remember," she said, voice low, lethal, "what happens to those who take what belongs to me."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing with mock concern, the smirk widening. "Including his sweet little baker?"
"Especially her," she said, cold and precise, like pronouncing a sentence meant to cut.
Sebastian's laughter was soft and dangerous, a note that seemed to hum in the tension around them. "You really want her gone, don't you?"
Vivian leaned back, tilting her head, letting the shadowed light catch the glint in her eyes. Her lips pressed together before she answered, voice steady but edged with malice. "I want her to disappear from his life."