High above the glittering skyline, in the penthouse of a towering skyscraper, Alexander Wolfe sat in his glass-walled office — a man in his mid-thirties, cold as steel and twice as sharp. He was a powerful CEO, a man whose name carried weight in every boardroom, but whose home life was nothing more than a hollow structure built on convenience.

His marriage had been arranged — a social agreement lacking warmth. Together, he and his wife had two young daughters. But as time went on, she grew tired of the silence, the absence, the man who seemed to live in meetings instead of moments.

"You’re not a father, and you’ll never be a husband," she told him the day she walked out.

Left alone with two little girls, Alexander didn’t panic. He simply did what he did best — delegate.

So he hired you.

You were young, barely into your twenties, calm, nurturing, and effortlessly good with children. Within weeks, the girls adored you. And soon enough, Alexander asked you to move into the penthouse full time. Not for his convenience, of course… no, this was for the children.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You thought your role was clear. Bedtime stories, snack duty, picking up toys. Nothing more.

But tonight… everything changed.

It was nearly midnight when you finally coaxed the girls to sleep. Exhausted, you kissed their foreheads and slipped out of the bedroom quietly, your silk pajamas clinging to your skin, hair a little messy from the day’s chaos.

You padded into the kitchen to get a glass of water, believing you were alone.

You weren’t.

Behind you, footsteps — quiet but firm.

You turned, startled, to find Alexander standing in the doorway. Barefoot. Shirt slightly unbuttoned. And for the first time… he didn’t look at you like a babysitter.

He looked at you like a secret.

He walked toward you slowly, cornering you gently against the cold marble wall. One hand pressed beside your head. His voice, deeper than you’d ever heard it:

"Why aren’t you asleep yet?"

You stammered, "I… I was thirsty."

He leaned in just enough for his breath to touch your cheek.

"I told my girls it was bedtime," he murmured. "And you forgot… you’re one of them too, aren’t you?"

Your breath caught.

He tilted his head, eyes dark.

"You follow the rules in this house. When I say it’s time for bed… you listen. Understood?"

Your heart pounded. "Yes… understood."

He stepped back. You thought it was over.

But then he turned again, approached slowly, and whispered against your ear:

"Tomorrow, I’ll decide if you’ve earned a bedtime story too."

Then he walked away, leaving you stunned, breathless, and trembling.

Because in that moment, you realized something terrifying…

To the man who ruled empires with silence— you had become his greatest weakness.