Cassian's POV
He read the file a fifth time this week.
Not because it was unclear, but because it lingered.
Quiet intelligence. Sparse, surgical phrasing. Strategy folded neatly beneath surface compliance.
Elmont's work.
Someone trying to speak without being heard.
Someone who didn't want the credit, but couldn't help revealing a sharp mind in the margins.
---
Executive Wing – Later
Cassian walked the corridor outside his office with no clear destination.
He told himself it was to stretch his shoulders. Get his blood moving.
But the truth was simpler.
Restlessness.
And that restlessness had a name. Even if he hadn't spoken it aloud.
Halfway to the stairwell, it hit him again. A scent. Veiled. Clinical. Familiar.
Gone before it could settle.
He didn't turn. Didn't move.
Then Theo appeared, rounding the corner with a stack of files.
The scent wasn't his. But it clung, just enough.
Cassian followed him back into the office.
---
Cassian's Office – Minutes Later
"Staffing updates," Theo said, placing the folders down. "Q4 projections. Some admin notes."
Cassian flipped open the top folder. Absently at first, until his fingers paused on one near the middle. Unlabeled.
He pulled it free.
There. The faintest trace again. Not Theo. Not the paper itself, but something left behind.
A scent. Or the memory of one.
He opened the file. That handwriting again. Compact, slightly right-leaning. Underlines placed with intentional space.
Not Lin's. Not Theo's.
Hers.
He didn't speak. Just read.
Silence settled between them.
Theo's phone buzzed. He checked it. "Celeste again."
Cassian didn't look up. "Put her through."
Theo hesitated, then tapped the call live.
Her voice came sharp as ever. "You're still dodging."
"I postponed a brunch," he replied. "It's not treason."
"You postponed three," she corrected. "My father's liaison dinner. The board brunch. The gala debrief."
"I've been busy."
"With what?"
He didn't answer.
"You said this alliance was about stability," she continued. "That a public commitment would give the board confidence. You told me it was strategy."
"It was."
"And now you're disappearing."
He stared out the window, fingers still touching the folder's edge.
"I'm re-evaluating the timeline."
A pause. "That's not what this is. You're slipping."
He said nothing.
She sighed. "Don't make me the fool, Cassian."
The call ended.
Theo left without a word, door clicking shut behind him.
Cassian sat alone at his desk, the folder still open. The lines still calling to him.
He wasn't slipping. Not yet.
But something had shifted.
And he needed to know what.
---
He pulled her file again. Not just for the work.
It was the precision. The way she carved clarity out of chaos. The way her logic left fingerprints behind, subtle but impossible to ignore.
And maybe that's what pulled at him most.
Curiosity.
The uncomfortable kind.
Because he knew what his future was supposed to look like. Board seats, political marriages, legacy pre-scripted in a family ledger.
But every time he read her work, he thought:
What would it look like to build something with someone who sees through everything?
He didn't have an answer.
But the question was starting to matter more than it should.
---
Admin Floor – Lyra's POV
The admin floor buzzed with the illusion of normalcy. That was the danger.
Lyra sat buried in schedules. Budget follow-ups. Reports that blurred together.
She moved through it all like her body had been loaned out, efficient, distant.
Until—
"He was here again."
Talia's voice, low behind the divider.
Lyra didn't look up. "Who?"
"Our favorite marble statue."
Cassian.
She kept her expression still, eyes fixed on her screen.
"Passed payroll," Talia said. "Then into Oversight. Like he's circling."
"Maybe he's checking compliance."
"Or maybe he's tracking something." A pause. "You know how Alphas get when their instincts go sniffing."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
Talia grinned. "Says the woman walking like she's made of glass."
"Stress."
"That's what everyone says before they quit."
Lyra didn't respond.
Talia dragged the spare chair closer. Dropped into it like she lived there. "Still pissed I missed the gala. You think I wouldn't have noticed?"
Lyra tensed.
Talia didn't push. She just scanned the floor like a hunter. "It would've been fun to crash a champagne tower. Stir the pot. At least I'd know what all the gasping was about."
"Some things are better left unseen."
Talia gave her a long look. "No. But it's worth knowing who's pretending they didn't see them."
She stood, lingering a moment before disappearing down the hall.
Lyra exhaled. Once. Sharp.
Then went back to typing.
—-
Cassian's POV – Late Afternoon
He opened the folder again.
Lyra Elmont.
Still no red flags. No errors. Her record was clean. Reliable. Almost boring.
But it wasn't what was in her file that held him.
It was what wasn't.
The gaps. The layers.
He'd spent the week circling small truths. Watching how her work filtered upward. How every project she touched started moving smoother. Sharper.
First week since the gala.
A blur of meetings, postponed brunches, strategic conversations he barely remembered.
But the name Elmont, that stuck.
And today, after reviewing the Q4 budget memos, he had walked the admin floor again.
No announcement. No reason.
He told himself he was checking Operations compliance in person.
But then he saw her.
Lyra. Tucked behind a screen, sleeves pushed up, mouth drawn tight in concentration. The scent veil between them held. Barely.
She didn't look up.
Didn't notice him, he thought.
But something about the way her shoulders stiffened told him: maybe she did.
Now, back in his office, he pressed a finger to the edge of the folder.
The scent wasn't what drew him.
It was the precision.
The control.
The way her mind moved. Deliberate, relentless. Like someone trying to outrun a clock she hadn't told anyone about.
And maybe that's what haunted him.
Not just curiosity.
But the growing certainty that she was hiding something.
And that whatever it was—
He wasn't sure he wanted to stop looking.