Chapter Four
Ray Chen
Something is wrong with the office.
I feel it the moment I step out of the elevator.
The air is heavier—like everyone collectively decided to hold their breath. Conversations die the second doors open. Keyboards clack a little too loudly. No one laughs.
No one looks at me.
Which is strange, because people always do. Not in a bad way—just the usual nods, smiles, small talk. I'm easy to talk to. I make it easy.
Today, they avoid me like I'm contagious.
"Morning," I say softly to the receptionist.
She startles. Actually startles. Her eyes flick past me—toward the executive hallway—before she forces a smile.
"Morning, Ray."
That's it.
No comment about my coffee. No joke about Mondays. Nothing.
I walk to my desk, confusion curling in my stomach. My inbox is already full. Too full. Calendar changes. Meeting cancellations. Rescheduled calls I don't remember touching.
I open my planner.
Someone's been in it.
Not physically—but digitally. Blocks of my schedule have been moved. Lunch shortened. A recurring meeting with finance… gone.
I frown.
That meeting never gets canceled.
"Ray."
I look up.
One of the senior assistants is standing there, face pale, eyes nervous. She lowers her voice instinctively.
"Did you… do something?"
My heart stutters. "What? No—why?"
She swallows. "Finance got pulled into a compliance review this morning. Like—full audit. Overnight."
My skin prickles.
"That's—" I stop. "That's not my department."
"I know," she says quickly. "It's just… it happened right after last night."
Last night.
The hallway.The man who stood too close.The way the finance hire ran.
I laugh weakly. "That's just a coincidence."
She doesn't laugh back.
She leans closer. "Ray… you were alone with him, weren't you?"
The word him doesn't need a name.
My mouth goes dry. "He just told me to go home."
Her eyes widen. "He spoke to you?"
That's when I understand.
Fear.
Not the dramatic kind. Not screaming or panic. This is controlled fear. Respect sharpened into terror.
"He doesn't talk to anyone," she whispers. "Not unless something's wrong."
My pulse thunders in my ears.
"I didn't do anything wrong," I say, more to myself than her.
She steps back like I might explode. "Just—be careful, okay?"
Careful of what?
The day unravels slowly after that.
Men stop coming to my desk. Emails get rerouted. Tasks I usually handle are suddenly "no longer necessary." I'm thanked politely, distantly, like I'm something fragile that might break if touched.
At noon, my phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
I don't want to open it.
I do anyway.
Unknown: You're working too hard.
I stare at the screen, heart hammering.
Me: I'm just doing my job.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Unknown: That's changing.
My fingers tremble as I type.
Me: If this is about last night, I didn't mean to cause any trouble.
The reply is immediate.
Unknown: You didn't.
A pause.
Then:
Unknown: You were caused.
I suck in a sharp breath, glancing around the office. Everyone's busy pretending not to exist. I feel exposed. Seen.
Me: You're scaring me.
This time, there's a delay.
Long enough for dread to bloom.
Unknown: I'm protecting you.
I don't respond.
I can't.
At three o'clock, my calendar clears completely.
At four, my manager tells me I'm "free to leave early."
At five, I'm escorted to the elevator by security.
I don't remember asking for that.
As the doors slide shut, my phone buzzes one last time.
Unknown: Don't smile at men who don't matter.
My breath catches painfully.
I step into the evening with the sickening realization settling deep in my chest—
Everyone is afraid of him.
And somehow…
I think he's talking to me like I belong to him.