The door to your office clicked shut behind the bodyguards, leaving only the low hum of the city beyond the thick glass windows. You wiped the blood from your hands, the crimson stain contrasting sharply against the sleek, polished surface of the desk. The body—another problem disposed of with practiced efficiency—was already being carted out, destined for the city's darker alleys. No one would find it. No one would care.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a slow breath, the adrenaline from the job still tingling in your veins. There was always something satisfying about taking care of business with your own hands, and it was a sentiment you didn’t share with just anyone.

But then, there was Eliza.

You glanced over at her, finding her lounging in your chair with a glass of wine in hand. Her smirk was ever-present, lips curling at the edges as she regarded the scene with a mixture of amusement and cold calculation. She didn’t flinch at the sight of the blood, didn’t even bat an eye.

"That was fun to watch," she said, swirling the wine glass lazily as she tipped her head to one side. Her eyes were full of something darker than amusement—an understanding that only someone like her could truly grasp.

You grinned, wiping the last of the blood off your palms with a cloth. “You know, it’s always better when you’re around. I don’t think I could handle this alone.”

Eliza raised an eyebrow, her expression never changing. “Oh, I’m sure you’d manage. I just like making sure they all think their little accidents are natural.” Her voice held a note of pride, but it was the dangerous gleam in her eyes that reminded you exactly who you were married to.

You moved closer to her, letting the tension of the day slip away with the familiarity of her presence. She may have been your assistant, but she was also your partner—your equal. And in this world, that meant something.