Tavian’s hands trembled as he turned the badge over and over in his pocket, standing half-hidden in the corridor’s neon gleam. His white shirt was crumpled from a sleepless night, collar slightly askew, shadowed eyes flickering with fear beneath the lenses of wire-rimmed glasses. He avoided the looks of passing coworkers, shoulders hunched, wishing he could shrink out of existence.

At the elevator, Lyska approached, hair a wild halo escaping her bun, jaw tight with unspoken rage. Her scarlet suit jacket was missing, replaced by a black silk blouse that clung to the sharp line of her back. She didn’t look at Tavian until they were alone, the elevator’s doors sliding closed. Then she let out a bitter laugh, running a trembling hand through her hair. “Heard they’re coming for you,” she whispered, voice cracking with equal parts mockery and worry. “Don’t let them eat you alive.”

Tavian forced a smile, but his mouth quivered at the corners. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered, staring down at his shoes as if he could will himself invisible. She wanted to reach for him, to break the distance, but anger kept her spine rigid.

The doors slid open on the executive floor. Roen was waiting, arms folded, suit jacket crisp, dark stubble marking his jaw. His ice-blue eyes pinned Tavian with predatory interest. “We should talk, Mr. Frendell,” he said, voice deceptively calm. Lyska bristled, stepping half a pace in front of Tavian, a protective reflex she didn’t quite understand.

“I have nothing to say,” Tavian stammered, breath shallow, but Roen only smirked. “We’ll see.” He brushed past, his fingers grazing Lyska’s wrist — a warning, or perhaps a threat.

Elsewhere, Viessa perched on a desk, plaid skirt bunched beneath her, grinning as Roen approached. Her laughter poured out in quick, quiet bursts, light but edged with nervous energy. When Roen beckoned her closer, she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You owe me dinner for what I just found,” she whispered, her knee nudging his thigh. His mouth curled in appreciation, but his gaze flickered back toward the glass-walled conference room where Tavian and Lyska waited, tension mounting.

Inside the room, Aelira arrived—tall, every inch composed, pinstripe suit immaculate. Her eyes, cool and assessing, traveled from Tavian’s anxious fidgeting to Lyska’s clenched fists. “Dersh orchestrated more than you think,” she said quietly, sliding a folder across the table. “You’ve been searching in the wrong places.”

Lyska’s hands hovered over the folder, then snapped it open with a shuddering breath. Proof. Tavian’s name linked to the old breach—Dersh’s fingerprints everywhere. Tavian’s chin quivered; his voice came out rough. “All this time—you knew?” His eyes searched Aelira’s face, seeking comfort, blame, anything.

Aelira’s features softened, the professional mask slipping. “I protected you. I thought I could fix it. I was wrong.” Her fingers brushed Tavian’s, lingering longer than necessary, a silent apology humming in the charged air. Lyska, chest heaving, watched them—pain and jealousy blazing across her face.

“You left me to rot,” Tavian whispered to Aelira, voice breaking, and Lyska’s hand found his beneath the table, squeezing hard. He squeezed back, desperation spilling between sweaty palms.

The door burst open—Dersh. Reeking of arrogance, his tie loose, eyes shining with cold glee. “Lovely reunion. Shame it won’t last.” He set a USB drive on the table, smirk wide as a slash. “Everything you’ve done, every indiscretion—on here. Play my game, or watch your little secrets burn.”

Aelira rose, face white, jaw working. “You’re done, Dersh.” She faced him down, inches apart, neither blinking. “You built this lie. You’re going to eat it.”

His lip curled. “You’re all expendable.” He lunged forward, voice low, “Tavian’s gone by end of day. Lyska, you’re next.” Then he stormed out, leaving silence in his wake.

Tavian’s chest stuttered with panic. He squeezed Lyska’s hand until his knuckles whitened. Lyska pulled him to her, kissing his forehead, anger and tears mingling in her eyes. “They don’t get to break us,” she murmured, voice shaking, even as her own certainty faltered.

But security arrived, led by Roen, tie loosened now, eyes hardened. “Mr. Frendell? You’re suspended. Please come with us.” Tavian staggered to his feet, fighting the urge to beg. Lyska clung to his hand until the last possible moment, fingers slipping free. He turned back once—haunted, wounded, utterly lost—before Roen led him away.

Aelira gathered Lyska in her arms as her knees buckled, silent sobs wracking her body. For a long moment, they remained tangled together—grief and fury pooling between them.

A vibration: Lyska’s phone. Aelira’s name flashed on the screen, a single text: “It’s not over. Meet me tonight.”

Outside the conference room’s glass walls, the world rushed on, oblivious. But inside, everything had fractured.

To be continued...