(Alex POV)
I don't notice appearances.
That's the rule.
People like to believe otherwise, but I don't run Hale Industries by being distracted. Faces blur. Voices fade. What matters is output.
Results.
Elara Moore should have been forgettable.
She wasn't.
She worked quietly. Arrived early. Left late. Same muted clothes. Same careful posture. Always tired in a way that didn't look temporary.
At seven-thirty, most of the floor was empty.
She was still there.
"You're staying late," I said, stopping near her desk.
She looked up immediately. "Yes, sir. Just finishing the reports."
She didn't complain. She never did.
I glanced at her screen. The work was clean. Thorough. No unnecessary notes.
Efficient.
I ordered food without asking.
When it arrived, I set it beside her keyboard.
"I have a call," I said. "Eat. It'll be cold by the time I'm done."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you, sir."
Good.
Across the floor, Mark Reynolds hovered near her desk again. Too close. Too comfortable.
"Reynolds," I said calmly.
He stiffened.
"Your projections don't align with last quarter," I continued. "Fix them."
"Yes, sir."
He left quickly.
That wasn't concern.
It was order.
Still, as I returned to my office, I found myself thinking about how she tucked her hair behind her ear when she concentrated. How she didn't look relieved when the food arrived — just resigned.
I dismissed the thought immediately.
I don't rely on people.
I don't notice people.
And I definitely don't memorize small details about assistants who should be invisible.
The irritation that followed told me I was lying to myself.