The headquarters of the Virement Group stood like a monument of glass and steel against the Manhattan skyline.
Clara stopped outside for a moment; she looked up at the building, then down at the worn leather purse hanging from her shoulder. She tightened her grip and walked inside.
The lobby was impossibly elegant.
Black marble stretched beneath her feet, interrupted only by pale stone columns and quiet seating areas where executives spoke in low voices over coffee. The reception desk sat beneath the towering Virement crest, polished until it reflected the lights overhead.
For the first time that morning, Clara wished she'd worn something nicer.
She approached the desk.
The receptionist looked up with a courteous smile "Good morning. How may I help you?"
"I'm here to see Sebastian Virement."
"Do you have an appointment with Mr Virement?"
Clara shook her head "I'm afraid not."
"And your name?"
"Clara."
The receptionist waited "...Just Clara?"
"Yes."
Her fingers paused over the keyboard "I'm sorry, ma'am, but Mr Virement doesn't meet with visitors without an appointment."
"I only need a few minutes."
"I'm afraid he's not in the building yet."
Clara nodded slowly "I understand."
She offered an apologetic smile "Thank you anyway."
Turning around, she lowered her eyes and headed for the entrance. At the same moment, the revolving doors turned.
A man entered without breaking stride; several executives instinctively stepped aside to let him pass. Neither of them was looking where they were going.
Their shoulders bumped "Oh—"
Clara lost her balance just enough for the old leather purse to slip from her shoulder.
It hit the marble floor. The clasp sprang open; everything spilt out.
A worn wallet, A packet of tissues, A small bottle of prenatal vitamins, a folded ultrasound appointment card, house keys attached to a faded keychain.
A few loose coins rolled across the polished floor.
Heat rushed to Clara's face "I'm so sorry."
She dropped to her knees immediately, trying to gather everything before anyone noticed.
The man had already crouched beside her.
Without a word, he picked up the coins before they rolled farther away and stacked the scattered belongings neatly beside the purse.
"I'm sorry," he said evenly. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
"No... it was my fault."
Clara avoided looking at him.
She hurriedly shoved everything back inside the purse, her hands growing clumsier the more aware she became of the expensive shoes surrounding her.
"Thank you." She barely whispered the words.
Before he could answer, she stood, gave a quick nod, and hurried toward the revolving doors; only after they closed behind her did he notice something still lying beside his shoe.
The purse.
She had grabbed everything else and forgotten the wallet itself.
He picked it up "Miss—" his voice carried across the lobby.
The woman never looked back; she disappeared into the morning crowd outside.
For a second, Alaric remained where he was, the worn leather wallet surprisingly light in his hand.
Something about the encounter left an odd feeling he couldn't immediately name not recognition Just... Unease.
He walked to the reception desk.
The receptionist straightened instantly "Good morning, Mr Virement."
He placed the wallet on the marble counter "The woman who was just here."
"Yes, sir."
"Who is she?"
"She introduced herself as Clara."
"Last name?"
"I'm afraid she didn't give one."
"What did she want?"
"She asked to see Mr Sebastian Virement."
Alaric's gaze remained on the forgotten wallet "Did she say why?"
"No, sir."
The receptionist hesitated before adding, "She didn't have an appointment, so I informed her Mr Sebastian wasn't here yet."
Silence. His eyes drifted briefly to the side pocket of the wallet, where the corner of a hospital envelope was still visible.
He remembered the prenatal vitamins scattered across the floor. Why would a pregnant woman come looking for Sebastian?
The thought arrived without invitation and with it came that same inexplicable unease.
He looked back at the receptionist "If she returns..."
The receptionist straightened even more.
"...don't send her to Sebastian."
She blinked.
"Send her to me."
Her surprise lasted only a fraction of a second "Yes, Mr Virement."
Alaric picked up the wallet "I believe she'll be back for this."
Without another word, he walked toward the private elevators, the old leather wallet still in his hand. Behind him, the receptionist watched him leave, quietly wondering why the CEO had taken an interest in a woman who, only minutes earlier, had seemed like just another visitor.
The silence at the dining table was not just quiet it was really heavy. It felt like it was suffocating them. They were all used to it by now.
Elara looked down at her plate. The sound of her fork hitting the plate seemed loud in the big empty room. Across from her, Celeste was drinking coffee. She looked cold and distant. At the end of the table, Victor was reading the newspaper. They were all in the room, but they might as well have been in different worlds. They did not talk to each other. They just coexisted.
Nobody said a word. Nobody even looked at each other. They were all really good at being silent. They had been practising for years.
Elara moved her scrambled eggs around her plate. She felt sick to her stomach. It was all so silly. Then the big wooden door opened. A maid came in with a letter. She put it down next to Victors arm.
Victor looked at the letter. His face did not show any emotion. He picked it up. Wiped his mouth with a napkin. Then he pushed his chair back. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor was loud. Celeste did not react. She just kept staring at her cup.
Victor adjusted the cuff of his suit as he crossed the foyer "The revised merger agreement."
He handed a sealed envelope to Elara "Sebastian wanted the updated figures before this afternoon."
Elara accepted it, her eyes flitting toward the heavy oak doors where her bodyguard stood at attention near the entrance. She held the envelope out toward him.
"Take this down to Sebastian's office," she instructed quietly. "Make sure it gets directly to his desk."
Before the guard could even take a step forward, Victor turned. His dark eyes locked onto Elara, sharp and cold enough to cut through the stillness of the hallway.
"I gave that to you, Elara," Victor's voice dropped an octave, smooth, low, and laced with absolute authority. "If I wanted a hired hand to run my errands, I would have sent a courier. Sebastian expects you to handle this personally. Do not delegate your responsibility to the staff."
The hallway went dead silent. The bodyguard froze, instantly lowering his eyes to the floor.
Elara's jaw tightened. She caught the rigid posture of her mother still sitting silently in the dining room, completely ignoring the tension bleeding into the foyer. Fighting back was pointless—it only drew out the cold, suffocating lectures Victor excelled at.
Elara pulled her hand back, tightening her grip on the crisp paper.
"Fine," Elara said, her tone clipped, forcing her composure back into place. "I'll drop it off."
Victor stared at her for a beat longer, measuring her compliance, before giving a brief, sharp nod. He turned toward the waiting car outside.
"I won't be back before dinner."
The front door closed behind him, the heavy thud resonating down the hallway like a gavel coming down, leaving Elara standing alone with the document in hand.
Nearly forty minutes later, Elara stepped into the lobby of the Virement Group headquarters.
Unlike most visitors, she didn't need directions.
The receptionist looked up immediately "Good morning, Miss Montclair."
"Good morning."
Elara placed the envelope on the counter "I'm here to see Sebastian."
"I'm afraid Mr Sebastian hasn't arrived yet."
She checked the time on her phone "He isn't in?"
"No, ma'am."
"I can leave these with him."
"Certainly."
The receptionist reached for the envelope.
Elara handed it over before turning toward the entrance. He isn't worth waiting for.
She had already taken two steps when movement caught the corner of her eye across the lobby; the private elevator doors slid open.
Alaric stepped inside dark suit, charcoal jacket, one hand tucked into his pocket the other... holding an old brown leather wallet.
The elevator doors began closing for a brief second; the image refused to make sense.
A lady's wallet? She stopped walking.
The doors shut.
The lobby fell quiet again "...Miss Montclair?"
She looked back at the receptionist "Which floor is Mr Alaric Virement's office on?"
The receptionist blinked "I'm sorry?"
"His office."
"I'm afraid the executive floor is restricted."
"I won't be long."
"Miss Montclair, I really can't authorise—"
But Elara was already walking toward the private elevators.
"Miss Montclair—"
The elevator doors closed before the receptionist could leave the desk.
The executive floor was almost silent. No crowded corridors. No assistants rushing between offices.
Only muted footsteps against dark wood flooring at the end of the hallway stood a pair of black double doors.
No nameplate only the silver Virement crest.
She knocked once. No answer. She waited. Still nothing. Slowly... she pushed the door open.
The office was enormous Floor to ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan; bookshelves lined one wall.
A long conference table occupied another. Everything else was clean, organised.
Almost painfully so.
Behind the desk, Alaric was reading through a stack of documents.
Without looking up, he spoke, "I wasn't expecting anyone."
Silence. Only then did he lift his eyes.
His expression changed so slightly that most people wouldn't have noticed.
He closed the file "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see Sebastian."
"So why are you in my office?"
"He isn't here."
"So naturally..."
His voice remained calm "...you decided to ignore several locked floors and walk into mine."
"There wasn't a lock."
"There should have been."
Elara ignored the remark "I saw you downstairs."
"I noticed."
"You were carrying some woman's wallet."
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly "And?"
"It didn't seem like yours."
"No."
"It wasn't."
Another silence settled between them "I assumed there'd be a reason."
"There is."
She waited.
He said nothing more.
A faint smile touched her lips "That's all you're going to say?"
"Did you come here to investigate my choice of accessories?"
She let out a quiet breath "I was curious."
"Curiosity has terrible timing."
"So does your attitude."
His gaze remained fixed on hers "My attitude?"
"You've barely looked at me since our night; it's been months."
"I've looked at you."
"You know what I mean."
A long pause.
Then he leaned back in his chair "And I simply concluded something yesterday."
"And what was that?"
"That I had overestimated my importance."
She frowned "What does that mean?"
"It means..."
His voice was level "...at your father's luncheon, you made it very clear who mattered."
Understanding slowly crossed her face "The luncheon?"
"You spent the entire afternoon beside Sebastian."
"He was my fiancé."
"So I've been reminded."
"It was a public event."
"It was."
"And yet somehow every conversation you managed to have avoided me."
Elara stared at him for a moment before letting out a small, disbelieving laugh "You're upset because I spoke to my fiancé?"
"I'm not upset."
"No?"
"No."
"You sound offended."
"I sound occupied."
"If you're occupied, this conversation would've ended already."
For the first time... Silence. Neither of them moved or looked away.
Finally, Alaric stood.
He walked around the desk with measured steps until he reached the office door.
He opened it "If your business is with Sebastian..."
His voice was calm again "...wait for Sebastian."
He looked at her without hostility, without warmth "My office isn't part of the tour."
For a heartbeat, Elara simply looked at him.
Then, without another word, she stepped past him and out into the corridor.
The door closed between them with a soft click.
Inside the office, Alaric remained standing. The office door clicked shut behind Elara.
She let out a quiet breath and started toward the elevators halfway down the corridor, the elevator doors slid open.
A young woman stepped out in a cream blouse, dark trousers.
One hand resting protectively over the gentle curve of her stomach.
The moment their eyes met, the woman hesitated; recognition flashed across her face Elara Montclair.
Clara's heartbeat stumbled.
She knew exactly who Elara was; everyone in New York did. Victor Montclair's daughter and Sebastian Virement's fiancée.
Without thinking, Clara lowered her head and turned slightly, hoping the corridor was long enough to pass unnoticed.
She tightened her grip on her stomach Then continued walking.
Elara slowed.
Something about the woman's reaction felt... Odd She'd never met her So why had she looked frightened?
Her eyes followed Clara as the woman stopped outside the very office Elara had just left.
She lifted a trembling hand... ...and knocked.
Elara frowned. Is she here to see Alaric?
Curiosity and suspicion won again instead of leaving, she quietly turned back.
At that exact moment, "Elara."
The familiar voice echoed through the corridor.
She looked over her shoulder. Sebastian.
He was striding toward her, loosening his tie as though he'd just stepped out of a meeting downstairs "I heard you were here."
He smiled faintly "Why didn't you wait in my office?"
"I was—"
His eyes drifted past her toward the woman standing outside Alaric's door the smile vanished for a fraction of a second... Everything inside him stopped. Clara.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
What... What was she doing here? And why... Why was she standing outside Alaric's office?
Clara heard his voice. Every muscle in her body locked slowly... She turned her head.
Their eyes met, colour drained from her face.
No... Not here. Not now.
Her first instinct was to leave, but if she ran... She'd have to pass Sebastian Pass Elara.
Her feet refused to move.
The silence stretched. Then the office door finally opened.
Alaric stepped out, the worn leather wallet resting casually in one hand.
His gaze moved from Clara... ...to Sebastian... ...to Elara.