Cynthia arrived at work the next morning still thinking about Alexander's warning.
His voice haunted her:
"Stop asking questions that could get you killed."
She barely slept. Her stomach twisted with worry, curiosity, and something else she refused to name.
When she stepped off the elevator, she froze.
Alexander was already there.
Standing in front of her desk.
Expression cold, unreadable, distant — like last night never happened.
Her heart dropped a little.
"Good morning, Miss Brooks," he said, tone clipped and professional.
Too professional.
Cynthia swallowed. "Good… morning?"
he placed a folder neatly on her desk.
"These are your final tasks," he said.
She blinked. "Final…?"
"You're being reassigned," he said flatly. "Today."
Cynthia's breath caught. "Reassigned? To where?"
"The finance department. New supervisor. New building. Effective immediately."
Her chest tightened. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"No," he said quickly — too quickly. Then he caught himself and straightened. "It's simply a structural change."
She frowned. "But you need an assistant. You said so yourself."
"I'll manage." His tone was almost icy now. "Pack your things."
She stared at him.
He wasn't meeting her eyes.
That hurt more than his words.
"Alexander," she said softly, "is this about what I overheard?"
His jaw clenched — a tiny, sharp movement.
"That incident is irrelevant."
"No, it's not," she insisted. "You're trying to push me away."
"I'm trying to work," he snapped.
She flinched.
For a split second, regret flashed across his face — gone before she could be sure she saw it.
Cynthia's voice cracked. "Just tell me the truth. Did I do something to upset you?"
"No," he said, softer now. "You didn't."
"Then why are you sending me away?"
Alexander inhaled slowly, like he was trying to keep himself together.
"Because this is what's best for you," he finally said. "This is safer."
Her eyes widened.
There it was again — safer.
"Safer from what?" she whispered.
"Miss Brooks," he said, stepping back, armor snapping into place, "your transfer is not negotiable."
Cynthia swallowed hard as he turned to leave.
But at the door, he paused — shoulders tense, back rigid.
And for the briefest moment… he whispered something so quiet she almost missed it.
"I'm sorry."
Then he left.
Cynthia stood there, heart sinking.
He wasn't annoyed
Of something big.
Of something coming.
And he was willing to break her trust just to keep her out of it.
The worst part?
She wasn't sure she'd let him.