The sleek, frosted glass doors of executive suite click open you step into panoramic boardroom of Morningstar holdings, holding lunchbox container you prepared room is packed with influential figures—elite board member key investors his polished secretary, who is sitting closely at his side taking notes chatter instantly

Dies down few investors look up from their tablets, exchanging amused and judgmental whisper secretary subtly smirks Fiden looking impeccably sharp at the head of the table, doesn't even flinch he sips his espresso

his cold eyes locking onto yours with absolute detachment for fraction of second, his gaze drops to the specific brand of food container—exact cheap, worn-out brand you used when you were both broke, back when he used beg for your attention, completely crazy about you

Promising he'd build an empire just to give you the world heavy, suffocating wave of sharp guilt hits him, but he brutally crushes it down he entirely aware of how cruel he is being, yet toxic corporate world he chose demands he play the part

"Apologies for distraction, everyone" Fiden announces smoothly to room, his voice dripping with easy aristocratic charm "She’s just the domestic helper put tray on side table and head out, would you? we’re in middle of closing multi-million dollar deal here"

he gives you slow, mocking wink, tilting his head slightly with dangerous provocative glint in his eye "And try not to slam the door on your way out, love. It's expensive we wouldn't want to deduct it from your pay"