Eli buttoned his shirt on the first try.
No fumbling. No missed holes. His fingers moved through the motions with practiced ease, and when he checked the mirror, everything was straight. Aligned. Perfect.
He stared at his reflection, waiting for the small surge of accomplishment that should have come.
Nothing.
Being close to me makes you a target.
The words were still there, lodged somewhere behind his ribs. But this morning they felt different. Less like a warning and more like a fact he was supposed to have already accepted.
Eli adjusted his collar one more time and left for work.
The black car was waiting.
Same driver, same silence, same route through the city that was starting to feel routine. Eli watched the buildings slide past and tried to remember what his mornings used to feel like. Coffee at the corner shop. The subway. The particular anxiety of being late.
Now he had a car. A badge that opened doors most people would never see. A desk twenty feet from Adrian Vale's office.
He should have felt grateful.
Instead, he felt like he was holding his breath.
Adrian's office door was open when Eli arrived, but Adrian didn't look up from the document in front of him.
"Morning," Eli said, setting the coffee down in its usual spot.
"Morning."
Adrian's pen moved across the page. Precise. Controlled. He signed something, flipped to the next page, and kept reading.
Eli waited.
The silence stretched.
"The Hendricks file is on your desk," Adrian said without lifting his gaze. "I'll need it by noon."
"Of course."
"That's all."
Eli's chest tightened. He nodded even though Adrian wasn't looking, then turned and left.
The door stayed open behind him.
The morning passed in fragments.
Adrian emerged from his office twice. Both times, he gave Eli instructions in the same clipped, efficient tone—no small talk, no acknowledgment beyond what was necessary. When Eli brought him the Hendricks file at eleven-thirty, Adrian took it with a brief nod and returned to his call.
Eli told himself it was just a busy day.
The merger was in a critical phase. Adrian had back-to-back meetings. There were a dozen reasons why he might be distant that had nothing to do with Eli.
But when Adrian passed him in the hallway an hour later without slowing, without even a glance, Eli felt something cold settle in his stomach.
He'd done something wrong.
He just didn't know what.
Eli found himself on the third floor just after two.
He'd been looking for a file—something Adrian had mentioned needing for a meeting later—and the records room was supposedly down here. But the hallways on the third floor were quieter than the ones upstairs, less trafficked, and Eli was starting to think he'd taken a wrong turn when he heard voices.
He stopped.
The bathroom door ahead of him was slightly ajar, and through the gap, he could hear two men talking.
"—questionable judgment, at best."
Eli recognized the voice. Whitmore. Senior VP. The man who'd sat across from Adrian in last week's board meeting and hadn't smiled once.
"Adrian's always had his favorites," another voice said. Younger. Calloway, maybe. "But this is different."
"It's reckless."
Eli's hand was on the doorframe. He should leave. He should walk away before they noticed him standing there.
But he didn't move.
"The assistant?" Calloway asked.
"Eli Park. Yes."
His name.
Said like a line item in a budget report. Clinical. Detached.
Eli's pulse kicked.
"Adrian's protecting him," Whitmore continued. "Publicly. In front of the board. That makes him a liability."
"To Adrian or to us?"
"Both."
There was a pause. The sound of water running, then stopping.
"If Adrian wants to keep him around, fine," Whitmore said. "But he can't shield him from scrutiny and expect the rest of us to pretend it's not happening. People are noticing."
"Do we tell him that?"
"Adrian doesn't take advice well."
A dry laugh. "No. He doesn't."
Eli stepped back from the door.
His hands were shaking.
He turned and walked back the way he'd come, moving quickly, keeping his footsteps quiet. When he reached the elevator, he pressed the button three times before it lit up.
Adrian's protecting him.
That makes him a liability.
The elevator doors opened. Eli stepped inside and watched the numbers climb back to forty-two.
His reflection in the polished steel looked pale.
Adrian didn't return to the office until after six.
By then, Eli had finished the Hendricks file, reorganized the filing cabinet, and answered every email in his inbox twice. He'd been looking for things to do, tasks to focus on, anything to keep his mind from circling back to what he'd overheard.
When Adrian finally walked in, his tie was loosened and there were shadows under his eyes.
Eli stood. "The Hendricks file is done. It's on your desk."
Adrian picked it up, flipped through the pages without sitting down. His jaw was tight.
"Good," he said.
That was all.
Eli's throat felt dry. "Is there anything else you need tonight?"
Adrian set the file down. He looked at Eli for the first time all day, and his expression was unreadable.
"No."
The word was quiet. Final.
Eli nodded. He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed for the door.
"Eli."
He stopped. Turned.
Adrian was still standing by the desk, one hand resting on the Hendricks file. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something else.
Then his jaw tightened, and he looked away.
"Lock the door on your way out."
Eli left.
The parking structure was nearly empty by the time Eli reached his car.
Most people had left hours ago. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and flickered, casting everything in sickly yellow. Eli's footsteps echoed against the concrete as he made his way to the third level, where his car sat wedged between a concrete pillar and a sleek black sedan that probably cost more than he made in a year.
He fumbled with his keys.
Dropped them.
"Long day?"
Eli's head snapped up.
Sebastian Cross was leaning against the pillar, hands in his pockets, expression calm and unreadable. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a magazine—suit jacket draped over one arm, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled in a way that seemed intentional.
Eli's heart kicked against his ribs. "I—yeah."
Sebastian didn't move. Just watched him with that same easy, assessing gaze. "You look like you could use a drink."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
Eli bent down and grabbed his keys. His fingers felt clumsy, uncoordinated. "I should get going."
"Eli."
Something in the way Sebastian said his name made him stop.
Not a command. Not a threat.
Just his name, spoken like it mattered.
Eli straightened slowly. "What?"
Sebastian pushed off the pillar and took a step closer. Not threatening. Not aggressive. Just present.
"He's not telling you, is he?" Sebastian's voice was quiet. Almost gentle.
Eli's throat closed. "Telling me what?"
"What it costs him. To keep you."
The air felt thinner.
Eli shook his head. "I don't—"
"You heard something today," Sebastian said. It wasn't a question. "Didn't you?"
Eli's breath caught.
Sebastian's expression softened. "You're not stupid, Eli. You know they're talking. You know Adrian's taking heat for you."
"He hasn't said anything about—"
"He won't." Sebastian's tone was certain. Matter-of-fact. "Because if he tells you the cost, you might choose differently. And Adrian doesn't let people choose."
Eli wanted to argue. Wanted to defend Adrian, to say that wasn't true.
But the words wouldn't come.
Sebastian tilted his head slightly, studying him. "You don't belong here alone."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Eli looked away. "I'm not alone."
"Aren't you?"
Silence.
Eli's hands tightened around his keys. The metal bit into his palm.
Sebastian reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. He held it out, waiting.
"I'm not asking you to do anything," he said quietly. "I'm just saying—if you need someone who'll tell you the truth instead of managing you, I'm here."
Eli stared at the card.
He shouldn't take it.
He knew that. Knew it the same way he knew Adrian wouldn't approve, the same way he knew this conversation was already a mistake.
But his hand moved anyway.
The card was warm from Sebastian's pocket. Heavy stock. Embossed lettering that caught the light.
"I rehearse my voicemails," Eli said.
The words came out before he could stop them.
Sebastian blinked. "What?"
Eli's face burned. He should stop talking. Should get in his car and leave and pretend this conversation never happened.
But something in Sebastian's expression—something open, something that looked almost like understanding—made him keep going.
"Before I call clients," Eli said. "I rehearse what I'm going to say if I get their voicemail. Because I sound—" He stopped. Swallowed. "Wrong. Like I don't belong."
Sebastian didn't laugh.
Didn't smile.
He just looked at Eli like he'd said something that mattered.
"You don't sound wrong," Sebastian said quietly.
Eli's throat ached.
"Adrian wouldn't notice that," Sebastian continued. "He's been here too long. He doesn't remember what it's like to feel out of place. But I do."
Eli's fingers tightened around the card.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Sebastian nodded. He stepped back, giving Eli space, and slipped his hands back into his pockets.
"Get home safe, Eli."
Then he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty structure until they faded completely.
Eli stood there alone under the buzzing lights, holding a business card he shouldn't have taken, and tried to remember how to breathe.
Adrian was waiting in his office when Eli arrived the next morning.
Eli knew something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door.
Adrian was standing by the window, perfectly still, hands in his pockets. He didn't turn when Eli entered.
"Morning," Eli said carefully.
"Close the door."
Eli's stomach dropped.
He closed it.
The click of the latch sounded too loud.
Adrian's reflection was sharp in the glass—jaw tight, shoulders tense. When he finally turned, his eyes were cold.
"The Carmichael meeting was moved," Adrian said.
Eli blinked. "I—what?"
"This morning. Someone requested a schedule change." Adrian's gaze locked onto him. "Who told you about the Carmichael account?"
Eli's mouth went dry.
"I—no one. I just—"
"Eli."
The way Adrian said his name made his chest hurt.
"Who told you?"
Silence.
Eli's mind raced. He hadn't mentioned Carmichael. He hadn't even thought about it. But Sebastian had said something last night, hadn't he? In passing. A comment about accounts under review, about deals that were being reconsidered.
Eli's pulse hammered. "I must have overheard something in—"
"You're no longer attending those meetings."
The words were quiet.
Final.
Eli's breath stopped. "What?"
Adrian's jaw was tight. "The executive briefings. You're off the list."
"But I didn't—"
"It's already done."
Eli felt the floor tilt beneath him. "Adrian, please, I don't even know what—"
"That's all."
Adrian turned back to the window.
Eli stood there, frozen, waiting for Adrian to say something else. To explain. To look at him.
Adrian didn't move.
The silence stretched.
Eli's hands were shaking.
He turned and left.
The door clicked shut behind him, and he made it to his desk before his knees went weak. He sat down hard, staring at his computer screen without seeing it.
You're no longer attending those meetings.
The words echoed in his head.
His phone buzzed.
Eli looked down.
A text. Unknown number.
I told you I'd keep you safe.
Eli stared at the screen.
His throat burned.
He didn't delete it.