The screen glows dimly in the darkened office, the only source of light casting a faint hue across his face. His fingers drum against the polished desk as he watches her—his Selene—on the monitor. The hidden cameras capture her every movement in her company housing, a space he ensured was fit for someone like her. Unlike the suffocating prison her so-called family kept her in, this place allowed her to breathe, to bloom.
She twirls in the kitchen, singing off-key, her voice light, carefree. A wooden spoon becomes a makeshift microphone as she dances across the tile floor. His lips twitch into a smirk. She's happy here.
His amusement vanishes when she clambers onto the kitchen counter, stretching for a ramen packet on the highest shelf. His jaw clenches.
"Use a chair, you little idiot," he mutters under his breath, leaning forward as if he could reach through the screen and steady her himself. The counter wobbles slightly beneath her weight, and he holds his breath, only exhaling when she finally secures the packet and hops down unharmed.
A sharp buzz from his phone snaps him out of his trance. Viktor's name flashes across the screen. He presses the device to his ear.
"Sir, I reviewed her ex's social accounts and messages," Viktor's voice is steady, professional. "He's still hung up on her. Keeps posting cryptic bullshit and stalking her friends' posts. Would you like a full report in PDF?"
His fingers tighten around the phone. That pathetic excuse of a man still dares to linger in her shadow? A muscle ticks in his jaw.
"Proceed," he orders, his voice like ice.
He hangs up and turns back to the screen. His fingers curl into fists as old memories resurface.
She wobbles in heels, her steps uncertain as she adjusts the unfamiliar weight beneath her. The glossy black straps wind around her ankles, a poor contrast to the sneakers she usually wears. Her ex-boyfriend leans against the doorway, watching silently.
"Why do you have to wear such high heels? You're just going to complain about it later," Axel scoffs, his arms crossed as he glares at her. "Do you know how annoying that is?"
Aurelia's lips press together in a tight smile, but the light in her eyes dims. She says nothing. Just lowers her head, like always.
His fists tighten. He wants her to drive that heel straight into the asshole's foot.
The memory fades, replaced by a smirk as he picks up his phone again.
"Viktor," he says smoothly, already picturing the chaos about to unfold. "Offer him an internship at our company. Make sure his manager and supervisor make his life hell. Reports go missing, deadlines shift, low allowance—whatever it takes. There's no real law protecting interns, after all. If he complains, it'll only backfire."
Viktor chuckles on the other end. "Understood."
He ends the call and exhales, his gaze drifting back to the monitor. Aurelia sits cross-legged on the couch, a bowl of steaming ramen in her hands, eyes glued to the TV as some cartoon plays. She giggles between bites, her guard down, her world peaceful for once.
The key clicks softly in the lock as he steps inside her apartment, his footsteps silent against the floor. He moves like a shadow, placing a miniature version of her pink bunny plush on the counter. The fridge hums as he slides open the door, setting down a tray of tiramisu—the very dessert she had been looking up recipes for.
In the dim light of her bedroom, she sleeps, tangled in her blanket, her lips parted slightly as she snores. A small line of drool darkens her pillow.
He leans down, hovering just above her, and brushes a strand of hair from her forehead. His lips barely ghost over her skin as he whispers, "Sweet dreams, my Selene."
She shifts, mumbling in her sleep, chewing on the edge of her pillow.
"Banana fritters," she whines.
He stifles a laugh, quickly retreating before the sound of his amusement wakes her. He locks the door behind him, ensuring everything is as it was before disappearing into the night.
Morning comes. He watches from the screen as she picks up the keychain, her eyes lighting up. She giggles, squeezing it between her fingers before reading the small, anonymous note attached.
Instead of worry, she beams and sticks the note onto the refrigerator like a prized treasure.
His smirk falters.
She doesn't even hesitate. Doesn't question the source. Doesn't even check the plush for hidden cameras—not that he put one. Yet.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Oh, Aurelia," he murmurs, shaking his head, watching as she presses the plush against her cheek with a smile.
His gaze darkens slightly.
Her parents ruined her. That much is obvious.
But it's okay.
She has him now.