The Sunlit Silence
The office was soaked in sunlight, but it felt cold.
Liria stood by the window, perfectly still, as if she were part of the architecture. Not admiring the view—controlling it. Judging it. Her reflection in the glass was sharper than her expression.
Julian entered without knocking.
Selena hart
“You’re late,” she said, before even turning.
Selena hart
“Two minutes is still late.”
He placed the folder on her desk, letting the silence stretch between them. She didn’t move. The click of his pen cap was the only sound.
julian
“You’re unusually quiet,”
Selena hart
“And you’re unusually observant for someone paid to take photos.”
julian
“I saw you. In the lift.”
Selena hart
“Is this your new hobby? Stalking moments you don’t understand?”
She stepped toward him, close enough that the air changed. Her voice dropped to a whisper, laced with venom and sugar.
Selena hart
“Curiosity, Julian, is a very expensive indulgence. Especially when it comes to me.”
julian
“I just want to help.”
Selena hart
Her laugh was quiet and chilling. “Help? That’s a dangerous word.”
julian
“You don’t have to pretend nothing happened.”
Selena hart
“I’m not pretending,” she said flatly. “I’m controlling the narrative. There’s a difference.”
She walked past him, brushing his arm without care, and sat behind her desk, fingers already flicking through the folder he brought, dismissing his concern like a discarded receipt.
Selena hart
“No more lift talk. It’s boring. I have real problems to manage.”
Selena hart
“Keeping people where they belong. Under me. Behind me. Out of my way.”
julian
Julian frowned. “That sounds exhausting.”
Selena hart
“Oh, it is. But I thrive in exhaustion. That’s what makes me better than everyone else.” She leaned back, crossing her legs. “You, on the other hand… you’re far too emotional to survive in my world.”
julian
“Maybe I’m just human.”
Selena hart
“And maybe I’m not,” she said with an icy sweetness, then went back to her work.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t thank him. Didn’t acknowledge that she’d had a breakdown, a moment of human weakness. In her mind, that moment never happened. And if it did, she had buried it beneath a thousand sharp commands and a steel spine.
Whatever broke inside her in that lift, she’d welded it shut again.
And the more Julian tried to get close, the more dangerous it was going to get.
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