The next morning, Lyle walked into the office at 8:30AM with dark circles and a laptop full of chaos.

She didn't even sit down before her colleagues came.

"Is it true?"

"Did she really throw your plan on the floor?"

"Girl how are you still standing?" Lyle dropped her bag on her desk.

"Coffee first. Interrogation later."

But they didn't move.

Natasha from accounts pushed to the front. Tall, loud, the office gossip queen.

She looked Lyle up and down as if she was inspecting a crime scene.

"So," Natasha said, voice dripping with fake concern.

"How are you coping with that client? Ms. Ridley is... sick, Lyle.

Like, mentally. She fired Sarah for using the wrong font.

She made James cry in the elevator.

Are you okay?"

The word sick hung in the air.

Lyle's jaw tightened.

"She's not sick, Natasha. She's demanding. There's a difference."

"Same thing," Natasha shrugged.

"Only a psycho would take a 5-year contract with her.

You must have a death wish."

A few people laughed.

Lyle didn't laugh.

She opened her laptop.

"I don't have time for office therapy. I have a client to save."

"Save her from what?" Natasha leaned on Lyle's desk. "From herself?"

Before Lyle could answer, the elevator dinged.

Everyone froze.

Not the normal office freeze.

The stop breathing freeze.

There was sound of footsteps.

Slow. Confident.

He walked in wearing a navy suit.

Tailored to his body.

Crisp white shirt. No tie.

Sleeves rolled once.

Watch that cost more than Natasha's car.

He was tall. Clean fade.

Jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

Eyes that scanned the room once and dismissed all of it.

He didn't smile.

Didn't nod.

Didn't care.

He just... ate the whole room.

Chatter died.

Keyboards stopped.

Even Natasha forgot she was mid-insult.

"Who's that?" someone whispered.

"New client manager," another whispered back. "Started yesterday."

 "He's handsome," a third girl breathed. "Like, illegal handsome."

Lyle didn't look up at first.

She kept typing.

Because if she looked, they'd know he got to her.

But then she heard it.

Her name.

"Lyle Noris?"

 Deep voice. Calm.

She looked up.

Regretted it immediately.

He was standing in front of her desk now. Close enough that she could smell his cologne.

"Yes?" Lyle kept her voice flat. Professional. Unimpressed.

"I'm Aiden Kaze," he said. "New client manager. Mr. Daniels said I should meet you."

The floor exploded silently.

New hot guy talking to Lyle.

Natasha's eyes went wide.

She mouthed psycho again, but this time she was looking at him.

Lyle stood up.

5'6 in heels.

She used every inch.

 "I'm busy, Mr. Kaze."

"Aiden," he corrected. Ghost of a smile. "And Mr. Daniels said you're the best. I wanted to see for myself."

The nerve.

Lyle wanted to roll her eyes.

Instead she said, "You've seen. Now go see Mr. Daniels."

"I will," Aiden said. "After."

He glanced at Natasha. Then back at Lyle.

"You don't look like someone who takes a 5-year contract."

Lyle's blood went cold.

How did he know about the contract already?

Before she could respond, Mr. Daniels' door opened.

"Ah! Aiden!" Mr. Daniels clapped his hands.

"Come in, come in. We need to talk about Mr. Logan Wyatt. The campaign."

Aiden didn't break eye contact with Lyle for one second too long.

Then he turned and walked into Mr. Daniels' office.

The second the door closed, the office exploded.

"OH MY GOD"

"Lyle he was looking at you"

"Did you see his watch??"

"Natasha you were calling her psycho and the handsome guy just-"

Natasha slammed her hand on Lyle's desk. "Okay but seriously, how did you not faint? He's literally too fine to be legal."

Lyle sat back down. Closed her laptop. Opened it again.

"I don't date my colleagues," she said.

"Lyle, that man isn't a colleague," Natasha said. "That's a distraction sent by Satan to ruin your focus."

 Lyle didn't answer.

Because inside, her heart was beating too fast for reasons she refused to name.

Anger? Maybe.

Annoyance? Definitely.

Something else?

No. Absolutely not.

 She wasn't distracted.

She wasn't impressed.

She had a 5-year client who called her work weak.

She had a campaign to burn and rebuild.

She had Ms. Ridley waiting at noon.

 She didn't have time for a hot guy in a suit who walked in and ate the whole office.

She typed harder.

But her ears were still tuned to Mr. Daniels' door.

And when it opened 10 minutes later,

Aiden walked out without looking at her...

Lyle felt something she didn't want to feel.

It was loss.

Not of a man.

It was control.

Because the whole office was still watching the door he'd walked through.

And for 5 seconds, no one was watching her.

That was what made her angry.

1:05PM. Office pantry.

 Lyle stood in front of the glass display with two things in her hands:

Chocolate cake. Mr. Daniels' favorite.

The one he only ate when a campaign hit #1.

Milky yogurt, no flavor.

Because Mr. Daniels said "flavored yogurt is for people who don't take work seriously."

Lyle wasn't doing this for friendship.

She was doing strategy.

She just needed 10 minutes.

10 minutes of comfortable conversation to remind him why she was the best before he pushed her out for the new guy.

Lyle pushed the pantry door open.

And stopped.

Mr. Daniels was already sitting at the small table laughing.

Not his usual "proud manager" laugh.

A real laugh. The kind he only gave when he trusted someone.

Across from him sat Aiden Kaze.

Suit jacket off. Sleeves rolled.

A plate in front of him with... chocolate cake and milky yogurt.

He'd gotten it for him.

Lyle's grip tightened on her own plate.

The cake nearly crushed.

 "...and that's why I told them no," Mr. Daniels was saying, still smiling.

"If they wanted safe, they should've hired someone else."

Aiden took a bite of cake.

"Safe doesn't trend. You know that."

"Exactly," Mr. Daniels pointed at him with his spoon. "You get it."

Lyle stood frozen by the door.

Aiden didn't look up.

He didn't see her.

He was too busy observing Mr. Daniels.

A puzzle he'd already solved.

Mr. Daniels looked up then and saw Lyle.

The plate.

The yoghurt.

His smile dropped for half a second.

Then he recovered, too fast.

"Oh," he said, clearing his throat. "Lyle. Group meeting?"

Lyle didn't answer.

Her throat was dry.

Mr. Daniels stood up, clapping his hands like he always did before dropping bad news.

"Perfect timing! Since you're all here..." He looked at Aiden, then at Lyle.

Eyes calculating.

"I've been thinking," Mr. Daniels said slowly.

"Healthy competition is good for growth.

So I'm giving Aiden one top client too.

Mr. Logan Wyatt.

Best-selling thriller author.

2 million followers."

Lyle's chest went tight.

Mr. Logan Wyatt.

The client she'd been negotiating with for weeks.

The contract that was supposed to be hers.

Aiden finally looked at her.

No surprise in his eyes.

Mr. Daniels continued, oblivious to the war starting:

"So we'll see who takes the #1 spot on the platform this quarter.

Lyle vs Aiden.

May the best manager win."

The pantry went silent.

Mr. Daniels watched the scene.

He picked up his yogurt and took a slow sip.

Lyle didn't blink.

She didn't drop the plate.

Inside, something burned.

It was hatred.

Not at Aiden.

Not even at Mr. Daniels.

It was herself.

For walking in here with cake like a desperate intern.

For thinking 10 minutes and dessert could buy back his loyalty.

She'd lost before she even sat down.

Lyle turned around. Not uttering any words.

She walked back to her desk.

Plate still in her hands.

She set it down hard.

The chocolate cracked.

Her hands were shaking.

Natasha appeared at her desk 2 seconds later. "Girl what happened? Why are you red?"

Lyle didn't answer.

She opened her laptop.

Stared at the "Mask Off" files.

Aiden had Mr. Daniels laughing over cake. Aiden had Mr. Logan Wyatt.

Aiden had Mr. Daniels' approval.

Lyle had a client who called her weak.

Lyle had 5 years of pressure.

Lyle had a feeling in her chest she couldn't name.

She typed hard. Delete and rewrite.

She couldn't shake it off.

The image of them laughing.

The way Aiden didn't even look at her.

The way Mr. Daniels chose him so casually.

It wasn't jealousy, Lyle told herself that.

It was hatred.

Pure, professional hatred.

Because she'd built this name for 3 years.

Brick by brick.

Client by client.

And now a man in a suit walked in and the whole office forgot.

Forgot her.

Forgot her work.

Forgot who made this company what it was.

Lyle closed her laptop.

If it was a war for #1, then she'd fight.