The city lights glittered against the glass walls of Marquez Technologies' headquarters, casting long reflections across Alexander's office. From the top floor, the city looked small and orderly, like a map he could control with a single decision. Traffic lights blinked in neat patterns, cars moved like tiny insects, and the distant skyline shimmered under the night sky.
Alexander stood by the window, one hand in his pocket, the other resting lightly against the glass. His posture was straight, unmoving, his expression calm but distant. Anyone who saw him from afar would think he was simply admiring the view, but his mind was far from the city below.
He was thinking about coincidences.
He did not believe in them.
The bump on the street. The phone swap. The café exchange. The nightclub. The same voice. The same attitude.
Too many coincidences in less than twenty-four hours.
The door behind him opened quietly.
Mike stepped into the office, a folder tucked under his arm. His expression was careful, professional, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders. He had worked for Alexander long enough to know when a report might not be well received.
"Sir," Mike said, walking toward the desk and placing the folder down carefully.
"I have compiled everything you asked for. Here is background check report."
Alexander did not turn immediately. He continued looking out at the city for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch across the room. Mike stood still and waited.
Finally, Alexander turned and walked slowly back to his desk. His eyes fell on the folder, but he did not open it yet.
"Report," he said simply.
Mike opened the folder and began reading from the first page.
"Her name is Malissa Fisher. She is 26 years. She works at Aurora Publishing. Assistant editor. Her performance reviews show she is hardworking but often late due to overtime and deadlines. She takes on extra tasks frequently.
Her salary is average for her position."
Alexander sat down and leaned back slightly in his chair, listening without interruption.
"Financially, she is struggling," Mike continued. "No significant assets. No investments. She rents a small apartment downtown. Most of her income goes toward family expenses and medical bills."
Alexander's fingers tapped once against the desk.
"Medical bills?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. Her mother has a chronic illness. Hospital visits, medication, and treatment costs are high. She has been paying for most of it herself."
Mike flipped another page.
"She also works part time occasionally. Temporary jobs, night shifts, event assistance. Recently she started working night shifts at a club."
Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly at that information, but he said nothing.
Mike continued, "Her social profile is ordinary. Small circle of friends. No criminal record. No suspicious financial activity. She writes fanfiction online under a username. She is a fan of a Korean idol. She attends small fan events when she can afford it."
Alexander frowned slightly.
"Fanfiction?" he repeated.
"Yes, sir," Mike said carefully. "She writes romance stories online. Nothing unusual. Just hobby writing."
Alexander leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
Ordinary.
Too ordinary.
Yet she had crossed his path repeatedly in one day.
Mike turned another page, but this time he did not speak immediately. His eyes lingered on the document in front of him.
Alexander noticed the hesitation.
"There is more," Alexander said quietly.
Mike looked up slowly. "Yes, sir. There is something else. Something important."
Alexander's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Speak."
Mike swallowed once before continuing.
"Her father was convicted years ago. The case was high profile and widely reported at the time. He was accused of murder."
Alexander's eyes did not move from Mike's face.
"Whose murder?" Alexander asked quietly.
Mike placed a document on the desk and slid it forward slowly.
"Your mother."
The room fell completely silent.
Even the faint hum of the air conditioning seemed to disappear.
Alexander's hand stilled on the desk. The tapping stopped. His face remained calm, but the air around him seemed to grow colder.
Memories he had buried years ago rose slowly to the surface.
Hospital corridors. Whispers. Lawyers. Reporters. Funeral flowers. His father standing silent beside a coffin. The feeling of something in his life breaking permanently.
He remembered the day clearly. He had been younger, but old enough to understand that nothing would ever be the same again.
"Are you certain?" Alexander asked quietly.
Mike nodded and opened another file.
"Court records, trial transcripts, witness statements, prison records. It is all here. Her father was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. The case closed years ago."
Alexander picked up the document slowly and looked at the name printed on the page.
Malissa Fisher. Daughter of the convicted man.
He set the document down again carefully.
"And she?" Alexander asked. "What is she doing now about it?"
Mike hesitated again. "She has been trying to hire a lawyer to file an appeal for her father's case. She has contacted several law firms over the past two years. Most refused due to lack of payment. Some reviewed the case but declined to proceed."
Alexander's eyes darkened slightly.
"She is still trying?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. She has been saving money for legal fees. She works overtime and part time jobs to raise funds."
Alexander leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment.
The irony was almost laughable.
The woman who had bumped into him, argued with him, insulted rich people in a nightclub, and unknowingly swapped phones with him was the daughter of the man who had destroyed his family.
Of all people in the city, it had to be her.
Coincidence. Or fate.
"Does she know who I am?" Alexander asked.
"No, sir. She does not appear to know your identity or the connection between your families."
Alexander's lips curved slightly into a cold, sharp smile.
"Good," he said. "Keep it that way."
Mike shifted slightly. He had worked for Alexander for years, but even he felt uneasy at the expression on his boss's face.
"What would you like me to do next?" Mike asked carefully.
Alexander stood up and walked slowly toward the window again. The city lights reflected in the glass, and his own reflection stared back at him. Calm. Controlled. Cold.
"She wants to reopen the case," Alexander said slowly. "She wants to prove her father is innocent."
"Yes, sir."
Alexander was silent for a long moment.
Then he spoke again.
"Block every lawyer she approaches."
Mike blinked slightly. "Sir?"
"No law firm takes her case," Alexander continued calmly. "No independent lawyer either. If she tries again, they refuse. If she offers money, they decline. If she begs, they still decline."
Mike understood immediately. Alexander was not just refusing to help. He was closing every possible door.
"No one touches that case," Alexander said. "No one reopens it. If she wants to fight for her father, she will find every door closed."
Mike nodded slowly. "Understood."
Alexander's reflection in the glass looked emotionless, almost detached.
"She thinks she can rewrite history," Alexander continued quietly. "She thinks she can undo what was done."
His voice dropped slightly.
"Let her try. I will make sure she learns the cost of crossing paths with me."
Mike said nothing. He simply closed the folder and held it against his chest.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Alexander turned back toward his desk.
"This is no longer coincidence," he said. "This is opportunity."
Mike looked up slightly.
Alexander continued, "If she wants to save her father, she will need money. If she needs money, she will work harder. If she works harder, she will become more desperate."
He paused for a moment.
"And desperate people make deals."
Mike understood immediately. Alexander was already planning several moves ahead.
"What about the hospital bills?" Mike asked quietly.
Alexander sat down again and folded his hands together on the desk.
"If she cannot pay, the hospital will delay treatment," Alexander said calmly. "If treatment is delayed, she will panic. If she panics, she will look for help."
"And when she looks for help?" Mike asked.
Alexander's eyes were cold and steady.
"She will come to me."
The office fell silent again.
Outside, the city continued to move, lights blinking and traffic flowing, completely unaware that somewhere high above, a decision had just been made that would change several lives.
Alexander picked up the file again and looked at Malissa's photo attached to the report.
She looked tired in the photo. Simple clothes. No makeup. Just a tired girl trying to survive.
The daughter of his enemy.
He placed the photo back into the folder and closed it slowly.
"Keep watching her," he said quietly. "I want to know everything she does."
"Yes, sir."
Mike turned and walked toward the door, but before he left, Alexander spoke again.
"And Mike."
"Yes, sir?"
Alexander looked at the closed folder on his desk.
"Make sure she has no way out."
Mike nodded once and left the office quietly.
Alexander remained seated, staring at the city lights again.
Coincidence had brought her into his life.
Alexander's gaze remained fixed on the city.
From now on, everything would be deliberate.