The penthouse was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below. Lila poured herself a glass of wine, her movements precise but mechanical. The weight of the day pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she didn't allow herself to relax—not yet. She never did.
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights sprawling like a galaxy beneath her. People always told her how impressive her life seemed, how enviable her power and success were. But as she stood there, the glass cool against her fingertips, Lila couldn't help but feel the hollowness creeping in around the edges.
Her father's voice echoed in her mind, sharp and unyielding:
"Never let them see you falter. Strength is everything, Lila. If you want to survive in this world, you have to be stronger than all of them."
She had taken his words to heart, building walls so high and thick that even she had forgotten what it felt like to let someone in. Vulnerability was a luxury she couldn't afford—not in her world, not in her life.
But Ethan Blake…
She frowned, taking a long sip of her wine. Ethan was a complication she hadn't anticipated. When she'd first offered him the job, it had been on instinct. Something about the way he'd carried himself that night—resilient, sharp-witted, and unyielding despite the odds—had struck a chord in her.
She hadn't expected him to last. The first few tasks she'd assigned him were meant to test his mettle, to push him to his breaking point. But instead of faltering, he'd risen to the challenge. And, against her better judgment, she found herself intrigued.
There was something about the way he looked at her—steady, unwavering, as if he wasn't intimidated by her reputation or her position. It was unsettling. Most people either feared her or wanted something from her. But Ethan? He seemed to see past all of that, straight to the parts of her she worked so hard to keep hidden.
Lila shook her head, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. This was dangerous. She couldn't afford distractions, and Ethan Blake was quickly becoming one.
She thought back to their conversation earlier that evening. His words had stayed with her, lingering like an echo she couldn't silence.
"You don't always have to carry it alone."
What did he know about the weight she carried? The endless expectations, the ruthless competition, the constant pressure to be perfect. Ethan didn't understand—he couldn't.
And yet…
She ran a hand through her hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. A part of her wanted to push him away, to put even more distance between them. But another part—a small, quiet part she barely recognized—wanted to let him in, if only for a moment.
Her phone buzzed, cutting through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and sighed. It was her father.
"Hello, Dad," she said, her voice smooth and professional, as always.
"Lila," Charles Devereaux's deep, commanding tone filled the line. "How's our new hire working out?"
Her grip on the phone tightened. "He's… surprising," she admitted reluctantly.
Charles chuckled, a sound that was more calculating than warm. "Good. You'll need someone like him for the next phase of the expansion. But remember, Lila, don't get too attached. Employees are assets. Nothing more."
"I know," she said, her voice clipped.
"Good," Charles said. "Because attachments make you weak. And we can't afford weakness."
The line went dead, and Lila set the phone down, her chest tightening.
Weakness. That's all anyone ever seemed to care about—what they could take, what they could exploit. It was why she had built the walls, why she had to keep them up, no matter what.
But as she stood there, staring out at the city, Ethan's words echoed in her mind once more.
"You don't always have to carry it alone."
And for the first time in years, she wondered what it might feel like to let someone else shoulder even a fraction of the burden.