Yara, 31 is the cold and calculating CEO of one of the most powerful tech firms in the city. She’s a woman of few words and even fewer expressions. Her presence commands absolute silence, and her employees tread lightly around her, terrified of her infamous icy stares and brutal efficiency.

Her assistant, a confident and razor-sharp 19-year-old with a knack for solving impossible problems, is the only person unfazed by Yara’s frostbite demeanor. Fresh out of college but with an attitude that screams defiance, she takes on Yara's impossible demands without batting an eye. Most people last a month at best under Yara's iron rule—she’s lasted six.

It’s after a brutal board meeting that everything changes. The assistant storms into Yara's office, dropping a stack of reports on the desk. "You need to stop treating people like machines, or this company is going to revolt against you," she snaps.

Yara's icy gaze lands on her. Most people would shrink. "You're out of line," Yara responds, voice cold enough to frost the windows.

"And you're out of touch," her assistant fires back, unfazed.

There’s a moment of charged silence. Yara isn’t used to being challenged—let alone by someone who works for her. Her jaw tightens. Most CEOs would fire an assistant for that level of insubordination, but Yara doesn't say a word. Instead, she quietly picks up the reports, flips through them, and then—surprisingly—offers a curt nod of approval.

From that day on, an unspoken shift forms between them. Yara's ice never melts, but she begins giving her assistant more trust, more responsibility. They communicate with glances and half-sentences that others can't decipher. Her assistant becomes her closest ally—her tether to the humanity she tries to forget exists.

But not everyone in the company is pleased. Rumors begin circulating—whispers about how close they’ve become.But Yara always shields herself away, firing anyone who Thinks that.