Danica Flowers kept her eyes glued to the quarterly report on the conference table. The heavy air in the top-floor boardroom of the Jimenez Group's Manhattan headquarters made it hard to breathe. She bit her lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, barely stopping her fingertips from trembling. The heavy double mahogany doors swung open, pushed from the outside by two bodyguards. Hard leather soles clicked against the marble floor, cutting off the art director's mid-sentence pitch. Danica ducked her head lower, trying to shrink into the corner shadows. Callum Jimenez walked into the room carrying the freezing winter air with him. A bespoke black suit framed his broad shoulders, radiating pure intimidation as his cold gaze swept across the long table. The executive vice president shot up from the head chair. He moved so fast his elbow knocked over his porcelain coffee cup. Dark liquid spilled across his notes, but he ignored the mess, plastering a fawning smile on his face to hide the management team's panic. "Mr. Jimenez," the vice president said, his voice shaking. "Why did you cut your European trip short? Headquarters wasn't ready to welcome you for your inauguration as CEO today." Callum ignored the man's outstretched hand. He walked straight to the head of the table and pulled out the leather chair. As he sat down, his deep gray-blue eyes looked through cold lenses and locked right onto the woman shrinking in the corner. Danica felt that icy stare pin her down. She gripped her Apple Pencil tighter, the matte plastic rubbing against the thin callus on her right index finger, forcing herself not to look up. Callum curled his long fingers and tapped his knuckle twice against the mahogany surface. His low, raspy voice broke the dead silence. "Continue the presentation." The art director wiped cold sweat from his forehead and stammered as he pulled up the slides. His shaking thumb hit the clicker wrong twice, flashing garbled charts across the projector screen. Callum loosened his dark silk tie with one hand and leaned back. "Is this the three-million-dollar trash your art department produced?" Callum interrupted, his voice freezing the room. The director's knees buckled. He looked around in a panic for a scapegoat until his eyes landed on the most junior employee at the table. He pointed a trembling finger right at Danica. "Mr. Jimenez, the new junior artist, Danica Flowers, handled these concept sketches!" the director shouted to cover his own guilt. "She failed to grasp the group's commercial vision!" Danica snapped her head up, disbelief and anger flaring in her amber eyes. She opened her mouth to argue, only to crash straight into Callum's bottomless gray-blue gaze. Sitting diagonally across from her, Celena Wall twirled the three diamond studs on her right ear. As a socialite who got into the department through family connections, she curled her lips into a gloating smirk, waiting to watch this broke single mother get thrown out on the street. Callum stared at Danica's pale cheeks for three seconds. Then he stood up and walked around the long table. His shoes made heavy thuds against the carpet as he closed in on her corner. Danica's breathing sped up with every step he took. Mild claustrophobia tightened her chest, and she braced both hands against the edge of the table to stop herself from bolting. Callum stopped right behind her chair. His tall frame blocked the overhead lights, trapping her in his shadow and the familiar scent of cedarwood. He leaned down, planting both hands on the table on either side of her body. Caging her between his arms and the desk, he spoke right against the shell of her ear. "Explain yourself." The cedar scent made Danica's heart hammer against her ribs. She steadied her voice. "The director rejected this draft three weeks ago. It never went into final production." Callum let out a humorless laugh. Under the bright lights, a vintage men's wedding band on his left ring finger flashed a dark glint, stinging Danica's eyes. He reached down and pulled the sketch from under her elbow. His fingertips brushed across the back of her freezing hand, the rough contact making both of them stiffen at the exact same second. Callum whipped the sketch straight into the director's face. "You can't even read the perspective structure of a junior draft," Callum said, his voice as cold as a Siberian wind. "Go to finance tomorrow, settle your pay, and get out." The director slumped into his chair, his face gray. Gasps echoed around the table as the other executives dropped their heads, terrified to look at the new tyrant. Celena's smile froze. She glared at Callum's back, which was still pressed close to Danica, and dug her red nails into her palms. Callum straightened up and looked down at Danica's tight jawline. "Starting today, report all art department revisions directly to me." Danica took a deep breath, keeping her tone strictly professional. "Mr. Jimenez, company protocol states that a junior artist doesn't have the clearance to report directly to the CEO." Callum pulled a dark gray silk handkerchief from his pocket. He slowly wiped the fingers that had just touched her paper, his eyes sweeping with disdain over her washed-out shirt collar. He tossed the handkerchief into the trash can. "My word is protocol here. If you have a problem with that, there's the door." Danica bit down hard on her lip, swallowing the humiliation. Thinking of her daughter's massive medical bills, she lowered her head. "Understood, Mr. Jimenez," she said, her voice dry. Callum gave her one last deep look before turning and striding out of the conference room. Once the doors shut, Danica slipped out into the hallway to catch her breath.

Out in the corridor, Danica pressed her back flat against the freezing marble wall, trying to slow her ragged breathing. At the end of the hall, the polished metal of the elevator doors reflected her paper-white face. She squeezed her eyes shut. Against her will, a snowy night from three years ago flashed through her mind. Back in college, she had been the rich heiress of the Flowers family, chasing a proud scholarship student. That night, Callum had stood on the steps of the fraternity house with a cigarette between his fingers, looking down with pure contempt. His cold laugh at his friend Coleton echoed in her ears all over again. He had said he never took her seriously and that they were bound to go their separate ways. The memory felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head, leaving her freezing from the inside out. Danica snapped her eyes open and shook her head hard to clear the humiliation. Stepping forward in her worn flats, she walked fast toward the art department's open floor. Back in her cramped cubicle, she slammed a heavy stack of reference books onto her desk. She swore to herself right then to treat Callum like a total stranger—nothing more than an emotionless ATM paying her wages. Her neighbor, Chloe, leaned over the divider and lowered her voice with genuine concern. "Danica, you look awful. Did your husband's condition get worse again?" Danica picked up her cold mug and took a sip of coffee to hide the panic in her eyes. "I just didn't sleep well taking care of him last night. Thanks for asking, Chloe." At the same time, inside the luxurious top-floor CEO office, Callum stood expressionless in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Looking down at the endless Manhattan traffic, he spun a custom fountain pen between his long fingers in irritation. A knock sounded at the door. His special assistant, Arthur Hayes, walked in holding a thick stack of documents and stood respectfully in front of the wide mahogany desk. Callum didn't turn around. "Pull all of Danica Flowers's HR files and background checks since she joined the company," Callum said, his cold voice echoing across the empty room. "Put them on my desk." Arthur blinked in surprise, quickly hiding his reaction. He placed a blue folder from the top of his stack onto the corner of the desk and bowed his head. "Mr. Jimenez, here is the information you requested." Callum turned around. His gray-blue eyes locked onto the blue folder as if it held lethal poison, and he didn't reach for it right away. Sitting down in his leather executive chair, he yanked his tie loose with one hand and threw it aside. Finally, he pressed his knuckles against the cover and slowly flipped open the first page. A standard ID photo from her onboarding was clipped to the top sheet. Her features were still striking, but deep exhaustion from the grind of daily life shadowed her eyes. Callum's fingertips brushed over the tight corners of her mouth in the photo. An invisible hand seemed to squeeze his heart so hard that his breathing stopped for a full second. He yanked his hand back as if burned. Malice flooded back into his eyes, and he let out a cold laugh through gritted teeth. "So you've fallen this low, Flowers." He flipped through her pay stubs and overtime logs. Seeing the endless rows of late-night clock-outs, his brows knitted together, a flash of pain crossing his eyes before he could stop it. He turned to the family background page. His gaze froze on the marital status box, where one black word was printed in bold ink: Married. Callum's fingers clamped down on the folder. His knuckles turned white from the force, crushing the heavy paper with a harsh crinkling sound. He stared at that single word in disbelief. The image of her walking away three years ago flashed before his eyes, and a massive sense of betrayal ate away at his sanity. Callum slammed the folder down onto the desk. The loud bang echoed through the quiet room, making Arthur flinch outside the door. Bracing both hands on the wood, Callum's chest heaved, red veins creeping into his eyes. "You actually dared to marry someone else," he ground out between his teeth. He picked up the internal desk phone and punched in the extension for his assistant. "Arthur," Callum commanded, his voice dark and suffocating. "Tell Danica Flowers to bring the latest quarterly budget sheet to my office right now. If she isn't up here in five minutes, have finance process her termination." He slammed the phone back onto the receiver and stared toward the heavy office doors, waiting for the sound of her footsteps in the hallway outside.

While the elevator carried Danica up, Callum smoothed out the crumpled family background page on his desk. His gaze moved down from the "Married" box and locked onto the emergency contact and dependents section. In the small print, a line read: Daughter, Lily Flowers, Age 4. Month of birth: May. Callum's pupils shrank. He did the math in his head instantly. They had broken up three years ago, and the child was four in nominal age—meaning right after she left him, she had seamlessly gotten pregnant and given birth to another man's child. He smashed his fist straight down onto the hard mahogany desk. Blood oozed from his split knuckles instantly, but he didn't feel a thing as jealousy burned through his mind. Hearing the loud crash, Arthur pushed the door open. Seeing the blood on Callum's hand, he gasped. "Mr. Jimenez, you're bleeding! I'll call the medical team right now!" Callum snapped his head up, his gray-blue eyes glaring like a cornered beast. "Get out," Callum rasped, his voice raw. "Nobody comes in." Arthur stumbled back a step, terrified by the look in his boss's eyes. He hurried out and pulled the heavy mahogany doors shut, locking the tyrant's rage inside. Callum leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. A low, suffocating laugh tore from his throat, full of bitter mockery and despair. He remembered acting like a lunatic back then, posting anonymously on the campus forum begging for ways to win her back, staying up all night fixing a sculpture she had dropped. And all that time, she had been in another man's arms, carrying a new life. A light knock sounded at the door. Danica's cool voice came through the thick wood. "Mr. Jimenez, it's Danica Flowers. I brought the budget sheet." Callum pulled a tissue from the box, wiped the blood off his knuckles, and flipped the blue folder face down on the desk. "Come in." Danica pushed the door open and immediately spotted the bloodstained tissue tossed on the corner of the desk. Her brows twitched, but she quickly looked away, keeping her face blank. Walking up to the wide desk, she set the budget folder down at the farthest edge from him. "Here is the report you wanted. If there's nothing else, I'll head back down." Callum didn't even glance at the folder. He stood up, his tall shadow swallowing her whole, his voice dripping with malice. "In such a hurry to clock out and take care of that... sick husband of yours?" Danica's heart seized. He had definitely read her HR file. She lifted her chin and met his eyes without backing down. "My private life has nothing to do with my work." Callum scoffed and walked around the desk, advancing on her step by step until the backs of her legs hit the floor-to-ceiling window. He planted one hand on the glass beside her head and looked down, his warm breath brushing the tip of her nose. "Working yourself half to death for a few thousand dollars in overtime pay," Callum mocked. "Is that useless husband of yours too pathetic to even feed you and your daughter?" Hearing the word "daughter," all the blood drained from Danica's face. Terrified he would dig into Lily's real birth date, her fingertips started to shake. She shoved hard against his chest, glaring at him like a cornered lioness protecting her cub. "Keep my family out of your mouth!" she snapped, her voice rising. "He is a thousand times better than a cold-blooded capitalist like you!" Watching her flare up to defend another man pushed Callum over the edge. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight enough to crush bone. He leaned down right against her ear, his voice thick with venom. "If he's so great, you'd better pray he lives a long life, so you and that bastard don't end up on the streets." The word "bastard" turned Danica's eyes bright red. She swung her free hand up to slap his face, but Callum caught her wrist mid-air. Seeing the red rimming her eyes made his chest ache, as if an invisible fist were crushing his ribs. Forcing the feeling down, he twisted both her arms behind her back and pinned her against the glass window. Trapped against his chest, Danica glared at him with her amber eyes. "Let go of me. You make me sick." Those four words hit him like a bucket of freezing water. Callum let go instantly and stepped back twice, acting as if he had just touched something filthy. He straightened the hem of his suit jacket, putting his untouchable billionaire mask right back on, and pointed toward the door. "Get out. Starting today, if you don't redraw every single draft ten times, don't expect to see a dime of your performance bonus." Danica rubbed her red wrists and turned toward the door without a word, keeping her spine ramrod straight. Just as her hand touched the brass doorknob, Callum's cold voice came from behind her again. "By the way, I forgot to mention. The company is auditing costs. All overtime pay after midnight is officially canceled." Danica's shoes froze on the carpet. Losing late-night overtime meant losing her biggest source of extra cash, leaving a massive hole in the fund for Lily's specialty medication next month. She bit her lip hard, pulled the heavy door open without looking back, and walked out into the hall.