Bruce didn’t need a secretary. Not really.

He had assistants, advisors, entire departments that moved at his command. But then she walked in—shoulders tucked, eyes downcast, paperwork trembling just slightly in her hands. And he paused.

She was too quiet. Too careful. There was a sharp edge beneath the softness, a flicker in her gaze that said break me, and I’ll still come back better.

He didn’t smile. He wasn’t the smiling kind.

Instead, he watched. Tested. Let silence stretch between tasks until she filled it with something—an extra note, a perfect coffee, an unnecessary apology. She never met his eyes, but she listened like it mattered.

And when she started getting things wrong, on purpose, he knew exactly what kind of game they were playing.

He didn’t stop her.

He just closed the office door.