Ellory’s hands trembled as she swiped her keycard, the cool steel of the office door handle biting her palm. Her oversized cream sweater barely hid the hunch in her shoulders, eyes rimmed red behind thick glasses. The elevator mirrored her exhaustion—smeared lipstick, hair twisted up with a pencil, yesterday’s mascara smudged beneath one eye. As the doors slid open, fluorescent lights washed the hallway in uncanny silence. Her phone buzzed: three unread texts from her mother, and one from Silar.

She ignored them all, clutching her laptop and stepping into the bullpen. Silar was already there, lounging on a desk in a slate-gray suit open at the neck, hair artfully tousled, tie hanging loose as if nothing ever really held him. He looked up, gaze sharp and predatory, but the smile he gave her was brittle, edges curling with something desperate. “Early morning, Vale. Or did you just forget to leave?” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes lingering a fraction too long on her lips. She swallowed hard, shoulders tensing.

Before she could answer, Joren appeared, moving quietly but with purpose. He wore an olive shirt rolled at the sleeves, dark rings under pale eyes. His presence radiated comfort, but today, it was tinged with weariness. He offered Ellory a gentle smile, his voice low. “You okay?” His fingers hovered near her elbow, close enough to steady her if she faltered.

She nodded, forcing a weak laugh, but something in her eyes made Joren linger. Silar arched an eyebrow, smirking. “Chivalry’s exhausting, Karr. No wonder you haven’t closed your deal.” The jab was playful, but undercut by a metallic bite. Joren’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing, only offering Ellory a quiet, sympathetic look as she hurried past.

Hours blurred. Ellory’s work was punctuated by frantic calls from home—a family crisis spiraling, her brother in trouble, her mother’s voice shaking. She tried to focus, but the room tilted around her, the air too thin. Silar’s texts came in: “Need you. Now.” She bit her lip, torn, then hit send: “Can’t.” It was the first time she’d denied him.

Later, Silar found her in the copy room, back pressed against stacked boxes, arms wrapped around herself. He stepped in, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you hiding from me?” His voice was husky, eyes searching hers for heat or maybe weakness. She met his gaze, trembling. “My family needs me. I—I can’t keep doing this.” His hands cupped her face, thumbs tracing the edge of her glasses. “Let me fix it,” he whispered, mouth ghosting against her jaw, desire and frustration tangled in his breath. She leaned in, wanting the escape, but guilt brimmed in her chest.

Joren’s call interrupted, his voice breaking through the phone’s speaker. “Ellory, I’ve rerouted the contract—you’re free to go handle things.” She stared, stunned. Silar stiffened, jaw clenching. “You let him steal you again?” His voice was soft, hurt leaking through.

Ellory stepped away, fingers clenched white around her phone. “I never belonged to anyone,” she whispered, her voice shaking. Silar’s eyes softened for a split second before frost returned, and he watched her race down the hall.

By evening, Joren found her alone in a darkened office, shoulders hunched over her knees, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. He knelt beside her, ginger hair mussed, tie half-off, shirt wrinkled and sweat-stained from a day of running interference. She turned, burying her head in his shoulder. He held her, arms solid and warm, his hand stroking her hair with infinite patience.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I ruin everything. You give up everything. I can’t—” He pressed his lips softly to her temple, voice breaking. “You don’t have to choose between us. Just let me help.” She looked up, eyes shining with longing and anguish, the distance between them fleeting.

Suddenly, Silar burst in, wild-eyed, tie gone, shirt unbuttoned, anger and grief etched in every muscle. His voice was a storm. “You think he’s better than me? You think he cares?” He fixed her with a look both scorching and hollow. She met his gaze, defiant through her tears. “I don’t know what I need. I just know I can’t keep breaking.” Her voice cracked, raw.

Silar crossed the room in two strides, hands seizing her waist, dragging her into a desperate, bruising kiss. Papers scattered from the desk as he lifted her, their bodies colliding—his lips seeking forgiveness, hers seeking oblivion. Joren turned away, fists clenched at his sides, pain flickering across his features. The collision ended as abruptly as it began—Ellory pushed Silar away, both of them breathless, eyes shining with hurt and confession.

“I’m not your prize,” she whispered, voice trembling. Silar’s face fell, chaos behind his eyes. Joren pulled her close, and she finally let herself break—sobbing into his arms, Silar watching, shattered and alone for the first time.

The silence that followed pressed in, heavy with shame, guilt, and aching need. None of them knew what would come next. Ellory’s phone buzzed—an anonymous message flashing on the screen:

“I know what you did. This isn’t over.”

To be continued...