DORIAN's POV

My chances of getting the job were shrinking with every rushed step I took through the towering gates of Vale Enterprise. I paused for a second to check my watch-and instantly regretted it.

Who the hell shows up late to an interview for a job that sounds too good to be true?

Apparently, me. Of course, me. 

My palms were already clammy just thinking about it, each step closer to the front desk another inch closer to a no.

No company wants to hire someone who can't even be punctual. And just to make matters worse? My resume didn't exactly scream "CFO material."

"I'm here for the interview. The Chief Financial Officer position. I think..." I added the last part in a hushed mutter, hoping the receptionist wouldn't catch how uncertain I sounded. 

She gave me a tight smile and started tapping away at the landline in front of her.

"Well, Mr. Keene. You're late. I assume you already know that." Her voice had a bite to it, and I curled my fingers into fists inside my pockets, scrambling for something-anything-to say.

"I mean, yeah, I know... but I have a solid explanation. Traffic was a nightmare, and then, right outside the building, someone splashed mud all over me. I had to run home to change. I couldn't just show up smelling like..."

She cut me off by turning her attention completely to the call she was making. Not even a blink in my direction.

"Please," I added, desperate. "I know this looks bad, but... surely there's some room for..."

She slammed the receiver down with a sharp clack, rolling her eyes before meeting my gaze.

"Third floor. Hall six. You're already late, so I suggest you stop wasting more time. And between us? Even our janitor talks less than you do."

Her voice faded out as I bolted for the elevator.

Third floor. Hall six.

Or was it the sixth floor? Hall three?

My mind scrambled for clarity, the receptionist's voice looping in my head like a scratched record. I swallowed hard and settled on the third floor, hall six. 

That sounded right... right?

I punched the button and pulled out my phone, skimming through the notes Ronan had helped me prep last night. Every word, every possible question, drilled into me by that beautiful man's midnight lectures.

And talking of Vale Enterprise, the building smelled like money, power, and anxiety-all things I didn't bring with me.

The elevator dinged open and I stepped out, adjusting my tie and slicking back the stubborn curl in my hair. My palms were already a mess, so I wiped them discreetly on my pants. 

Gross, yeah. But necessary.

I reached Hall six, took a deep breath, and twisted the handle open with a small creak.

All eyes turned to me the second I stepped in.

A long table with a group of stern-looking people. A dimly lit projector flickering across serious faces. And there was silence so sharp that it cut through me.

"Who are you?" Asked the man at the end of the table, his voice was like steel wrapped in silk.

My mouth went dry. My brain fogged.

"I... I'm Dorian. And a little confused," I muttered.

There were murmurs. Two security guys began making their way toward me.

'How did I get here?'

I tried to rewind the moment, piece together the steps-but it was like someone had scrubbed the memory clean.

"Dorian Keene? Applying for the CFO role?" The man asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes," I answered carefully, holding my file tighter, trying to seem composed when I absolutely wasn't. "I was told my interview was here."

"This is Hall three, Mr. Keene. Your interview is in Hall six."

My heart dropped.

And that's when it hit me-this wasn't the interview room.

I blinked at the plaque on the wall beside me.

Hall three.

Shit.

I barely held back the loud curse building in my throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I said, backing out quickly as the tension in the room crackled like static.

Get it together, Dorian.

I made it to the real Hall six this time, hesitating only slightly before opening the door.

Inside was a woman seated at a desk, her expression unreadable. "Mr. Keene?" She asked. I nodded, forcing a breath out. "You're late," she said bluntly.

I opened my mouth to explain but promptly shut it. I had already done enough damage for one morning.

"Let's begin," she said, flipping open a folder as the door behind me creaked open.

And then he walked in.

A man in every possible sense of the word.

Tall-easily 6'5. Blue eyes that could freeze time. Broad shoulders. Lips that looked like they belonged in a sin.

"Mr. Keene," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "You can consider me the second interviewer."

He extended a hand. I took it immediately, my smile automatic, my thoughts not so much.

His voice rang in my ears like déjà vu. Familiar. Too familiar.

Was he... the same man from the other hall? Or am I losing it?

"I'm sorry, have we met before?" I asked, my brows furrowed slightly.

He smiled, and the damn room lit up.

"Highly unlikely," he said, that calm tone not giving anything away. "But not totally impossible."

One look at those eyes again and-God help me-I already knew I would be completely ruined for the rest of this interview.

I remembered the time I went for my first interview. I once saw a Blue-Eyed man too and I stared into his eyes till the end of the job interview. 

And if you ask me what led to me not being able to get the job? 

The interviewer had seen me staring at him and that threw me out even though I knew from the start that my chance of getting the job was very slim. 

Now, would I repeat the same?

DORIAN's POV

And I got the damn job! 

It felt surreal-like I was standing outside myself watching it happen. But I got it.

Ronan had tried everything short of dragging me by the collar to the bar he worked at to celebrate last night, but I declined.

Partly because I was still mourning my mother, and partly because I knew how close I had come to blowing the interview. I might have gotten lucky once, but showing up late on my first day at work? 

That would've been the death knell. A level of recklessness even I couldn't afford.

"I see you're trying to break the habit of lateness, Mr. Keene," the receptionist noted dryly, her voice dripping with condescension. This time, I didn't look away. I let my eyes land on her badge, burning her name into memory.

Deborah.

"Trying and succeeding," I said smoothly. "Besides, you can't call it a habit if it happened once."

She blinked, clearly not expecting the comeback. Her lips tightened, but she swallowed the rest of whatever sarcasm was about to tumble out.

"Inquisitor will show you to your office, but the Boss needs you in his office first."

Her voice made my teeth itch. Karma must've been in a blackout spiral the day she was assigned personalities. Too damn bitter to be the face of any company.

I leaned a little closer, still smiling.

"Deborah," I said, letting her name drip like venom, "a little advice? You might want to save the sarcasm for the clients. I wonder who made you receptionist with a face like that. Though, I suppose it's one way to scare off unwanted visitors. Petty."

I know. Harsh. But she earned it.

I didn't stick around for her reaction-I didn't need to. Her expression already told me she was mentally writing a death wish in cursive.

I made my way to the Boss's office, my pulse thudding behind my ears. I had meditated, practiced yoga, even repeated affirmations in the mirror this morning just so my condition wouldn't come knocking mid-conversation.

"Good morning, Boss," I said from outside the door, my voice steady even as I felt something sharp and nameless clawing in my chest. He glanced up from his desk, cool and composed.

He gestured me in.

And then it hit me-those eyes.

Steel-gray with a tinge of glacial blue.

The kind of eyes that could quiet a room.

Blue Eyes was the boss? Like... he was the boss. 

How could I have not realized this yesterday? 

The way he moved with authority, like the floor bent beneath him... I should've known.

If I was right-and I always was-he was the same man from Hall Three. He must think I'm incompetent. 

'That idiot who couldn't even read a damn room number.'

Life always knew how to throw your past back in your face like a drink laced with acid.

"Well, Mr. Keene, are you coming in or what?" His voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, sharp and amused. That single arched brow could crush a man's ego if it were any higher.

I snapped back to the present, practically stumbling forward. "Sorry, Boss."

I stood in front of his desk while he typed away like I wasn't even there. A deliberate power play. One I knew too well.

But there was something deeper than that-a familiarity that unsettled me. Like I had known this man before time itself took its toll.

The way he looked at me...

Some stares don't touch your skin-they sink into your soul.

He finally met my gaze, those eyes doing something dangerous to my insides.

"Mr. Vale," I said softly, my eyes flicking everywhere but his. I felt like a sinner in confession.

"Hello, Mr. Keene," he replied, motioning to the chair across from him. 

I sat down, the seat feeling suddenly too small for my body. "Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir. I promise I won't let you down."

He offered his hand. I took it without hesitation. And then... I saw it.

A crescent-shaped birthmark. Just under the knuckle.

And the world... paused.

Something thundered in my memory, something bitter and cracked and wrapped in adolescent cruelty.

~~~~~

"Yo, y'all check out Nerd of the Year. Got a tattoo to feel better about yourself?"

I twirled the basketball in my hand, staring down the kid who seemed to piss me off for no reason other than the fact that he existed.

He flinched. "It's not a tattoo."

As the school's golden boy-quarterback, prom king, all the clichés-I had power. And I abused it. No one stopped me. They laughed with me. That was worse.

"Sure it isn't," I smirked, and let the ball fly. 

It cracked his glasses clean in half. His books spilled. His body followed.

I grabbed his hand and sneered.

"It's a birthmark," he said, near tears.

I shoved him. "Whatever you say, Caspian."

~~~~~

The birthmark. That same damn smudge of skin.

And suddenly, I wasn't Dorian Keene anymore. I was seventeen, cruel, and venomous, lording my power over someone who never deserved it.

"Caspian," I whispered, still holding his hand in that handshake longer than necessary.

"You've got a strong grip, Mr. Keene," he said coolly. "Almost like you're trying to hold onto something."

My heart twisted violently. I dropped his hand like it burned.

His gaze was piercing now. Not curious. Not suspicious. Familiar. Like he was dissecting me layer by layer. Like he remembered.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he was just waiting for the perfect time to twist the knife in return.

How do you apologize for being the villain in someone else's story?

The truth is-you don't. You sit there. You smile. You pray they don't recognize you, or worse, that they do.

Because I was Caspian's villain. In high school. And now?

Now I had to work for him.

God, what poetic hell was this?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, keeping my face blank.

This job-this life I was trying to build-I couldn't afford to lose it.

If he remembered, he could destroy it. Destroy me.

And something told me... he knew.

"Welcome aboard, Dorian Keene," he said, his voice smooth like silk wrapping around a blade. "I have a feeling we're going to have... a lot of fun together."

And that was it.

The glint in his eye? That wasn't a professional interest. It was personal history-laced with power and the promise of reckoning.

"Around here, I don't believe in second chances, Dorian," he said, sitting back with relaxed menace. "You get one shot. You either make it count... or you don't."

I slid my hands into my pockets, clenching my fists so tight they trembled.

He smiled. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous.

I wasn't just stepping into a job-I was stepping into the Lion's den.

And the Lion remembered.

CASPIAN's POV

The universe has a twisted sense of humor.

Of all the faces I imagined walking through that door for an interview at my company... This was the last.

Dorian. Fucking. Keene.

High school golden boy. The self-declared Alpha who once made it his goddamn mission to grind me into dust.

And now he's sitting across from me-his knees lightly bouncing, his eyes darting, and he was smiling like an eager little lamb on his first day as a staff member in my company. 

If only he knew I remembered everything.

Then again, the way his fingers kept twitching, I think he did.

The shattered glasses. The broken ribs. The blood I tasted while he laughed. The locker slams. The bruised lungs. The time he said I didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him.

I remember it all.

I remember the moment I promised myself: If I ever make it, I will make him regret breathing.

Today is the day I begin collecting on that promise.

The bastard probably thought he had changed, but some people don't evolve-they just wear newer, cleaner masks. Dorian might have grown broader shoulders, trimmed that jawline, and traded varsity jackets for a dress shirt, but underneath that new shell... the same weak, stupid boy.

Still stupid enough to walk into a Lion's den and smile.

But something about him had shifted. He wasn't as cocky. He was... soft around the edges. That sweet cinnamon-roll softness that made the girls in high school swoon and the boys want to be him. Pity good looks don't determine fate.

A little digging had revealed his mother died recently. Poor baby. Life finally got tired of handing him wins.

Now he needed this job like oxygen. Ouch!

"I promise to do my best at this job," he said, his voice trembling. "I promise to put in my all."

He was rubbing his wrists together in small, rapid motions. A tell? Anxiety? My therapist once said it was a subconscious attempt to self-soothe.

I chuckled softly.

"Oh, I'm sure you will. After all, you need to be competent to stay in this company."

He nodded quickly, eager to please. My insides seethed with the memory of being seventeen and bloody-mouthed while he smirked like a god.

"I won't let you down, Mr. Vale," he added.

Mr. Vale. How quaint. I pressed my fist beneath the table to keep from knocking his perfect teeth in.

"Of course," I said coolly. Then I tilted my head. "But I must say... you look completely different from junior high school."

The blood drained from his face. His lips parted. His throat bobbed like he had just swallowed nails. 

"Caspian..." he whispered, looking anywhere but me. "I know we had a little bit of... differences in high school, but surely we can put that behind us?"

I stood, my hands in my pockets, and my smile, a razor-thin one. 

"You already promised to be a good employee," I said. "Let's test that."

I plucked a card from my briefcase and stepped toward him. His lips were parted, still gasping like a beached fish. Without a word, I slid the card between them and watched his eyes blink twice before he clamped down on it in confusion.

He slowly withdrew it and read.

His face paled with every line.

"I... I think there's been a mistake, Mr. Vale."

His smile was hollow. Dead in the eyes.

Perfect.

"Mistake?" I echoed.

He stammered. "I applied for the CFO position. This says I should clean your hotel room, pick up dry cleaning, and fetch your coffee order-Oat milk. No foam..."

I nodded solemnly. "Fourteenth floor. 9:45 AM. Don't be late."

"But..." he began, blinking rapidly.

"And," I interrupted, "I expect a full ten-year financial projection and valuation model for our unreleased AI product by tomorrow. Include three potential acquisition scenarios and a confidential Fortune 100 merger proposal."

He swallowed hard. I pressed on.

"Oh, and draft our Series D investor pitch deck. I want risk modeling, burn rate analysis, exit strategy, and five-year ROI mapping."

His hands were trembling now.

"No one else can help you. NDA sealed."

"I... That's... Sir, that's... usually work for multiple departments..."

"I need it now. Unless you're incapable," I said smoothly, "in which case I will remove you from the field. Your call."

He clutched the card like it was a lifeline. "I will get it done," he said hoarsely.

I gave him one last nod and walked out. There was no way in hell he would be able to complete it all.

And I wasn't going to fire him.

No. I would break him piece by piece. Slowly. Every damn day. His ego. His pride. His perfect face. Until all that's left is a whisper of who he used to be.

~~~~~

9:02 AM.

The boardroom doors creaked open.

And there he was holding my latte.

Every head turned to look at him, and I watched his throat tighten like he was choking on humiliation.

He froze.

"You're interrupting a board meeting," my assistant snapped.

I held up a hand. "He's here with my coffee."

He didn't move.

Then, after a long pause, he walked forward-his shoulders stiff and his eyes on the floor. He placed the coffee in front of me with a half-bow, like a servant in an ancient court.

I didn't say a word. I just let him walk out.

Let him sit with that.

He'll be serving me lattes for far longer than he can survive.

~~~~~

By closing time, I was craving one last crack at his spirit.

"Where's Mr. Keene?" I asked.

"Still in his office, sir. He hasn't left." Deborah replied. 

I smiled.

Perfect.

I entered the elevator and went back to his office. I opened the door without knocking.

"Mr. Keene, you were supposed to have delivered at least one..."

I stopped. Why? 

His head was resting on the desk. He was sleeping on his first day at work. 

Anger coursed through me and I moved closer to his table and there he was... He wasn't sleeping. 

Pills were scattered around him. The compliance update file was still open on his laptop. And his fingers were limp around a pen.

A single breath caught in my throat. "Mr. Keene?"

I stepped closer, slowly picking up the bottle of pills. It was half-empty.

His body didn't stir.

My heart thudded once, loudly.

This wasn't part of the plan.

This wasn't...

At least... Not like this.

"Someone call 911!" I shouted, my voice cracking.