(Elara POV)
I'm typing when the voice cuts through the floor.
"Who prepared this?" Every conversation stops.
I freeze, fingers hovering above the keyboard.
Mr. Hale is standing near the screen in the open meeting area, eyes fixed on a projection of numbers I recognize instantly.
My numbers.
Vivienne is beside him, arms crossed, expression perfectly composed.
"The assistant compiled the data," Vivienne says smoothly. "I reviewed it."
My stomach drops.
Mr. Hale's gaze shifts. Slowly. Deliberately.
"Which assistant?" he asks. The room feels too quiet.
Vivienne turns, smiling faintly. "Elara Moore."
Every head turns toward me.
My face burns. "Come here," Mr. Hale says.
It's not loud.
It's not angry.
It's worse than both.
I stand on shaky legs and walk toward them, aware of every step, every eye. I stop a careful distance away.
"Yes, sir?"
"You adjusted the revenue curve," he says. "Why?"
"I—I noticed the deferred expenses," I reply softly. "They were moved across quarters."
Vivienne lets out a small laugh.
"That's a bold assumption," she says. "Those figures were approved."
Mr. Hale doesn't look at her.
"How much does it change the margin?" he asks me.
I swallow. "Eight point three percent."
The room murmurs.
Vivienne's smile tightens. "That's speculative."
Mr. Hale turns to the screen. "Pull up the raw data."
I hesitate. "Sir, it's on my system."
"Then bring it," he says.
I step closer, sliding in beside him to connect my laptop.
Too close.
I can feel the heat of him at my side. His shoulder. His arm. He doesn't move away.
I open the file, hands steady now that I'm back in numbers. I explain quietly, pointing to line items, showing patterns.
The room fades.
There are only figures. Logic. Truth.
When I finish, silence follows.
Then—
"She's right," the finance head says slowly.
Vivienne's nails press into her palm.
Mr. Hale doesn't say good job.
He doesn't say well done.
He does something else.
"From now on," he says, eyes still on the screen, "Ms. Moore sits in on all financial reviews."
My breath stutters.
Vivienne turns sharply. "Alex—she's an assistant."
He finally looks at her.
"And now she's an asset," he says calmly.
The word lands hard.
Vivienne's smile returns, colder this time. "Of course. Just surprising, that's all. Someone like her…"
She lets the sentence trail off.
I wish the floor would open and swallow me.
Mr. Hale steps slightly in front of me.
Subtle.
Unmistakable.
"Meeting's over," he says.
People disperse quickly.
I stand there, heart racing, unsure what to do with my hands.
"Ms. Moore," he says quietly, not looking at me. "Next time you see something like that—"
"I should speak," I say quickly.
His gaze flicks to mine.
"No," he says. "You should bring it to me."
Something about the way he says it makes my chest tighten.
Not kind.
Not gentle.
Possessive.
Vivienne brushes past me as she leaves.
"Be careful," she murmurs under her breath. "Attention doesn't last forever."
I watch her go, then turn back to my desk on unsteady legs.
Nothing about my job description has changed.
But everyone saw it.
Everyone saw me.
And as I sit down, I realize something terrifying.
Mr. Hale didn't just notice my work.
He claimed it.
And I don't know what that will cost me yet.