"Enjoy the walk."
The voice was low. Calm. Certain.
"Because you're not walking away from this."
Kaya jolted awake with a sharp gasp, her body lurching forward as if she had actually been pulled back by invisible hands.
Her heart was pounding violently against her ribs. Sweat clung to her skin, dampening her hairline, her sheets twisted around her legs like restraints.
For a few seconds, she couldn't tell where she was.
The dark ceiling slowly came into focus.
Her room.
Her bed.
No glass walls. No chandeliers. No Asher Sinclair standing behind her with that unreadable expression.
Just silence.
She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing hard.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. You're alive."
Her phone screen glowed faintly on the nightstand.
3:47 a.m.
She groaned and fell back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.
That was a dream.
Except… it wasn't.
The party had happened.
She had walked away.
She had poked Asher Sinclair right where his control issues lived.
Kaya covered her face with her hands.
"What were you thinking?" she muttered into the darkness.
Images replayed uninvited—his eyes darkening, his voice dropping, the way the air had shifted when he spoke that final line.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Worse.
Controlled.
She rolled onto her side, hugging a pillow to her chest.
I should've just stayed. Smiled. Nodded. Gone home.
But no.
She had chosen defiance.
She let out a weak laugh. "Congratulations, Kaya. You challenged a billionaire with control issues. Genius move."
The worst part?
He hadn't fired her.
Yet.
That thought sat up in her mind like a horror movie villain.
Because if Asher Sinclair was angry enough to fire someone, he did it immediately. Brutally. Cleanly.
No warnings. No delays.
Which meant—
Her stomach twisted.
He's waiting.
She shot upright again.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "It would've been better if he'd fired me already."
She grabbed her phone, half-expecting an email titled TERMINATION EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.
Nothing.
No messages.
No missed calls.
No corporate death sentence.
She stared at the screen.
"This is worse," she told it. "This is so much worse."
She flopped back dramatically, spreading her arms like a fallen heroine.
"At least if he fired me," she continued aloud, "I could cry, update my résumé, move cities, change my name—"
She paused.
"—fake my death."
Silence answered.
She sighed.
"How am I supposed to face him tomorrow?" she groaned. "What do I say? 'Good morning, sir, sorry I publicly defied you and left with another man to prove a point'?"
She buried her face into the pillow again.
Sleep did not return.
By the time the alarm rang, Kaya had already been awake for hours.
She stared at the ceiling, eyes burning, mind replaying every possible scenario like a badly edited thriller.
Scenario one: He fires her on the spot.
Scenario two: He pretends nothing happened (terrifying).
Scenario three: He makes her life hell (most likely).
She dragged herself out of bed, showered mechanically, dressed with zero enthusiasm, and left her apartment far earlier than usual.
Too early.
Suspiciously early.
As she walked toward Sinclair Holdings, she clasped her hands together like she was approaching a temple.
"God," she murmured, "I know I only talk to you when I'm terrified, but please—please—make him forget last night."
She paused at the entrance.
"Or give him temporary memory loss," she added quickly. "I'm flexible."
The office was quiet when she arrived.
Blessedly quiet.
She slipped into her desk, exhaling in relief.
Early bird strategy: avoid predator.
She worked efficiently, keeping her head down.
Avoiding glass walls.
Avoiding elevators.
Avoiding the entire east wing—Asher's wing.
Avoidance attempt #1:
She rerouted Rowan's documents through email instead of delivering them personally.
Avoidance attempt #2:
She pretended to be deeply engaged in a call when footsteps passed near her desk.
Avoidance attempt #3:
She volunteered to handle an errand two floors down just to escape the possibility of running into him.
So far?
Successful.
Her confidence grew slightly.
Maybe he really forgot, she thought hopefully.
At 6:12 p.m., her phone rang.
Unknown feeling.
Familiar dread.
She answered.
"Asher Sinclair's cabin," his voice said calmly. "Now."
The world ended.
Kaya stared at the phone long after the call disconnected.
The moment Kaya stood up from her chair, the energy on the executive floor shifted.
It was subtle at first.
A pause in typing.
A chair turning slightly.
Someone whispering, "Did you hear that?"
She held her phone limply in her hand, staring at it as if it had personally betrayed her.
In the cabin. Now.
Four words.
Four deadly, career-ending, soul-crushing words.
She swallowed.
"Well," she said faintly, pushing her chair back, "this has been… a life."
Her colleague Riya looked up instantly. "What happened?"
Kaya smiled at her. A slow, tragic smile.
"He called me," she said. "If I don't come back, clear my browser history."
Riya's eyes widened. "Oh God. Already?"
Another colleague leaned over. "Wait—today?"
"Yes," Kaya whispered dramatically. "He didn't even wait twenty-four hours. No cooling-off period. No warning email. Just—" she snapped her fingers, "—execution."
Someone actually gasped.
"This is because of the party, isn't it?" one of them whispered.
Kaya nodded gravely. "I poked the lion. I danced near the fire. I made eye contact with danger."
She stood slowly, smoothing her blazer like she was preparing for a funeral.
Her own.
"If I don't return," she continued, voice trembling just enough to be theatrical, "tell HR I was loyal. Mostly."
Riya grabbed her arm. "Stop it. You're not going to die."
Kaya looked at her with deep sincerity. "Riya. This is Asher Sinclair."
That shut everyone up.
Two desks down, someone murmured, "She's right."
They began following her.
At first, Kaya didn't notice.
Then she heard footsteps.
She turned.
Five people stood behind her.
She frowned. "Why are you all walking like that?"
"To support you," someone said softly.
Another nodded. "Moral support."
A third added, "If he fires you, we want to witness it."
Kaya snorted. "That's… not comforting."
They continued anyway.
As they moved down the corridor, more people joined.
Someone handed her a tissue.
"I'm not crying," Kaya protested. "I'm sweating fear."
The elevator dinged somewhere.
Her pace slowed.
"So this is how it ends," she muttered. "After three years of unpaid emotional labor."
She stopped outside Asher's corridor.
This was it.
The glass walls loomed ahead.
The door.
The final boss level.
Her entourage stopped behind her.
No one crossed the invisible line.
She turned around slowly.
They stared at her like mourners at a graveside.
Kaya raised her hand weakly. "If he fires me… I'm blocking all of you."
Someone laughed nervously.
She pointed at Riya. "Delete my embarrassing selfies."
Then she waved.
A full, dramatic wave.
"Remember me as I was," she said solemnly. "Alive."
She turned back toward the door.
Took a deep breath.
Straightened her spine.
And reached for the handle.
The laughter behind her faded into silence.
She pushed the door open.
And stepped inside.