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.

CASPIAN's POV 

"Dorian." I called aloud, tapping my hands on his back but there was no response yet. 

"Is someone not still calling 919?" I shouted, my fingers trembling out of control. 

When there was no response yet and I realized that it seemed more like Dorian wasn't breathing, I pulled him to rest his back on the chair. His mouth was open slightly ajar. 

My heart pounded hard against my chest before I scooped him in my arms, tightly to my chest. 

With him in my arms, I darted out of his office room and made my way towards the elevator. As the elevator took us to the down floor, I shook him repeatedly to see if he would wake up but he seemed pretty much lifeless. 

I literally thought it was a prank earlier or he was slacking off on his first day of work. But rethinking and seeing the condition he was in, it made me realise that he had struggled to pick up the drug's bottle. 

And what were those pills for? 

As the elevator's door opened, I rushed out. Deborah, who was seated and typing away on the laptop stood up with a confused expression on her face. 

"Have you called the hospital's emergency team?" I asked, my voice echoing through the very building. 

She nodded negatively and I was forced to shout, "Call them. Now!"

The security guards a couple of steps away at the entrance ran towards me, trying to lift Dorian away from my arms but unexpectedly, my grip was too firm for them to be able to pull him away. 

My eyes darted around. Deborah was holding the telephone in her ear as she kept on giving explanations to the hospital's emergency team. 

My body burned with impatience. I couldn't wait any longer. I pushed past the security guards and ran towards my car while they gave a hot pursuit. 

As soon as I reached my car, I dropped Dorian's unconscious body into the backseat and got into the driver's seat. I couldn't find Xavier anywhere around. Almost a useless being. Always at the fucking wrong place at the fucking wrong time. Thus, he makes himself unavailable to all. 

I drove out of the compound to the hospital. It took us about twenty minutes to reach there. 

I parked the car at the park, carried Dorian out, leaving the doors open as I screamed for help. Once I entered the hospital, nurses that were around rushed to meet me and took him from me-Not after I glanced at Dorian whose body was pretty much like a rubber. 

They laid him on the stretcher before they willed him into the hospital ward. 

~~~~~

A few minutes later, I couldn't help but to move closer to the ward. The doctor and some nurses were inside the ward attending to Dorian. That, I saw through the glass. 

I blinked my eyes repeatedly as I inhaled deeply. 

Was it all because of me? Did I pressure him too much? Did I rush into my revenge plan? Should I have taken it easy? 

I can pretty much get sued for this if Dorian reports. 

Just as I thought about that, a thought flickered through my mind. "Why are you worried about him? Have you forgotten what he did to you? The marks? The beatings? The assaults in general?"

I raised my eyes again, scanning Dorian's unconscious body. I clenched my fists slowly as I tightened my jaw. 

Why am I regretting it? Why should I regret whatever I had done to him? 

Whatever it is I have done to him can't be matched up with what he had done to me in the past. 

He shouldn't be destroyed so soon. He shouldn't be lying on the hospital bed now. Because I haven't avenged myself yet. This was just the beginning of his misery and he was already broken? 

Well... This is not my regret. Not quite in any way. This is pure irritation and anger at myself for not doing what I had promised to do. 

And I will only achieve this when he crawls, begs, and bleeds slowly. I won't give him the slightest chance to collapse in a pool of his own self-destruction after just a few humiliations.

Every moment he spends at Vale Enterprises will make him wish for his own death. 

A smirk played on my lips as I walked away and just as I turned right towards the hospital's hallway, beneath my calculated rage, something sharp stirred-memories I had buried behind Armani suits and tailored cruelty. 

I only remembered them earlier. I didn't get flashy images of them but now... 

High school echoes bled into the sterile lights of the hospital hallway. Dorian's voice sounded like cracked glass in my ears. 

My vision blurred and I shut my ears. My breathing increased rapidly and I felt tears clog my eyes. I gripped a nearby door's handle as I tried to catch my breath but to no avail. 

"Will you save me, Capsian?" I heard Dorian's pleading voice and I was forced to open my eyes. 

My legs shook as I turned around to see him walking towards me, a devilish smirk on his face-The same he always had in high school. 

My feet wobbled beneath me. My breath caught. The air was still tense. 

"Will you say something, Mr. Vale?" Dorian's voice dripped eerily when he arrived in front of me. His eyes locked onto mine with the utmost cruelty. 

I stepped backward. One at a time. And Dorian seemed to follow each of it, his gaze never leaving mine. 

My back touched the wall behind and I gasped. Fear crept into my chest as I dugged my fingernails into the hem of my suit. 

"Please... I... I... Don't hurt me," I begged, sinking to my knees and sending my hands over my head quickly. "Please..." 

"Hahaha. Didn't you want to destroy me?" He laughed, his voice growing thicker. 

"I dare not." I cried, my voice cracking. 

"Time will tell. But know that before you destroy me, I will destroy you. I did it before... and I will do it again." Dorian's voice faded into the distance but it sent shivers down my spine. 

Tears poured out of my eyes as I remained in the same position until a warm sensation from the sudden touch of a hand jolted me up. 

"Dr. McMasters?" I gasped, my chest rising and falling at the same time before I sank into his arms, my eyes closing shut. 

I was yet back to square one. Scared of Dorian like I had always been. When can a weak, insecured, useless, fragile me get my revenge on Dorian?