ARIA
Suspension sounded harmless in theory.
It wasn't.
It was isolated, quiet, suffocating, and strategic.
By the next morning, my company email had been disabled, my office keycard deactivated, and my inbox filled with polite "HR follow-ups."
The Hale building the place I'd helped rebuild through crisis and scandal had turned into glass and silence.
I only came back to collect my things.
The front desk receptionist avoided my eyes as she handed me a temporary visitor badge.
"Ms. Collins," she said carefully, "you're cleared to access your office for one hour."
Cleared.
Like I was a threat.
I walked through the lobby I used to own with my confidence. Every step echoed too loud. The security guard's eyes followed me all the way to the elevators.
When the doors opened on the executive floor, voices drifted from the main boardroom: Vivian's cool, commanding tone and a softer one that tugged at something sharp inside me.
Familiar.
I stopped by the open door just as Vanessa Carter stepped into view.
Her laughter was quiet and professional, the kind that didn't sound rehearsed because it didn't have to be.
She stood beside Vivian, flawless in a cream blazer, posture perfect.
"Vanessa's agreed to temporarily advise on the Carter merger," Vivian said smoothly. "Given the recent… disruptions, we need stability."
Vanessa's gaze met mine over the table, polite, almost sympathetic. "I hope this isn't awkward."
I smiled, even as my stomach turned. "Only if you make it."
Vivian's voice broke through, as smooth as ice. "You're not supposed to be here, Ms. Collins."
"I came to collect my belongings."
"Then do that," she said. "Quietly, please. There's a meeting in progress."
Her tone was pleasant enough for the watching executives, but underneath it, I heard the victory.
I turned to go, but not before I saw Nathan in the corner silent, stiff, pretending to take notes while the board murmured around him.
Our eyes met for a single heartbeat.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Couldn't.
Vivian's trap had done its job, and his silence was the proof.
Back in my office, I packed my things mechanically: files, photos, and the silver pen Nathan had given me after our first major pitch.
I was just zipping my bag when the door opened behind me.
He was there.
"Nathan, you shouldn't."
"I don't care," he said quietly.
He looked wrecked, like someone who hadn't slept and hadn't stopped fighting ghosts.
"Vanessa's back," I said flatly.
"I know."
"Of course you do."
"It's not my choice," he said. "The board approved it before I could object."
"Because you were told to step back," I said. "Because she made sure you can't protect me anymore."
He exhaled sharply. "That's not true."
"Isn't it?"
His hands flexed at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to touch me. "You think I'm just going to let her destroy everything? You think I'm giving up?"
"No," I said softly. "I think you're still trying to believe she's not your enemy."
He didn't answer.
The silence between us felt heavier than anything Vivian could've planned.
Finally, he said, "I'm trying to fix this the only way I can. But you need to stay away from the company until it's done."
"And if I don't?"
"Then she'll come after you harder."
I swallowed, throat tight. "You really think distance is going to save us?"
"I think it's the only thing keeping you safe right now."
The way he said "us" sent a pulse through me that I refused to acknowledge.
He stepped closer, and this time I didn't move back. His voice was quieter, rawer. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve her."
"I knew what I was walking into," I said.
"Then let me walk in front for once."
It wasn't a confession. It wasn't even a promise.
But it was something a crack in the armor, a truth neither of us had dared to say.
When he left, I stayed in the empty office, staring at the ghost of him in the doorway.
Through the glass, I could see Vivian and Vanessa laughing softly with the board.
And just like that, I realized this wasn't just her world anymore.
It was her stage.
And I was already standing where she wanted me: right at the edge, waiting to fall.