Lena sat stiffly in her leather chair, her eyes fixed on the phone screen like it had turned into a venomous snake. For a moment, she stopped breathing.
She couldn't believe it.
The woman in the video was her.
Her body, her voice, her shame.
Even though she always held herself above others, unshakable in her authority and image, this—this shattered everything.
Her pride, her control, her dignity—all laid bare on a five-inch screen.
Across from her, Eric leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes narrowed, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
"So, Ms. Lena… not so angry now, are you?" he said calmly, almost lazily.
"You… you were at the office last night?" Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with disbelief.
The usual icy demeanor she wore like armor cracked. Her knees weakened beneath the weight of the moment, and she slowly sank back into her chair, eyes still wide.
Eric didn't answer. He didn't have to. The silence spoke louder than words.
Seeing her usual haughty demeanor crumble—it was satisfying, even thrilling. For the first time, the predator had become the prey.
"You're a vile little bastard," she whispered, her voice low and trembling with fury. "What do you want?"
Eric's voice dropped to a near-whisper, mocking, sharp as a blade. "Old Richard doesn't know how to handle you properly. If it were me, Lena… you wouldn't be walking straight for a week."
The words hit like a slap, and Lena flinched, not from fear, but from the sheer audacity.
"And yet… you two are perfect for each other. Disgusting and fake to the bone."
Her nails dug into the armrest as she glared at him, her pride and rage colliding in a silent war. But deep down, she knew—this wasn't something she could walk away from.
That video in his hand? It was more than blackmail. It was a noose.
If it ever got out—to the company, to the board, to the media—she was finished. Richard too. Everything she had schemed for, sacrificed for, fucked for—gone in an instant.
Her mind raced. She needed to gain control again.
She rose slowly from her seat, smoothing her skirt, and walked around the desk with elegance and ease, every step calculated. Her fingers brushed his shoulder gently, a trace of perfume trailing in the air.
"Eric," she said sweetly, the edge in her voice replaced with a purr. "You know how hard it is for a woman like me in the corporate world. Sometimes, we do things we don't want to… just to survive."
Eric watched her with cold detachment. The contrast between her coquettish smile and her earlier fury wasn't surprising—it was almost expected.
Her hand slid slowly down his chest, confident and practiced. She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. "Let's not turn this into a war. We're both adults."
"You still think I'm one of those idiots you can seduce into submission, don't you?" Eric caught her wrist before her fingers went too far. "I'm not interested in your leftovers, Lena."
That stung.
For the first time, genuine shock flashed in her eyes. She had always known how to manipulate men—hell, she had climbed the ladder with just a smirk and a tight blouse.
But Eric… was different.
"Name your price," she snapped, frustration rising. "Whatever it is, I'll pay it."
Eric stood up, brushing her hand away like a fly. "It's not about money. And don't flatter yourself. That video isn't leverage—it's insurance."
Lena's voice turned cold. "You're messing with the wrong people."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "Then tell Richard this: the video's already backed up. Cloud storage. Multiple copies. If he wants to play, I'm ready."
He turned and walked out, leaving her trembling in a storm of humiliation and confusion.
The door slammed behind him.
"Fuck!" Lena screamed, grabbing a paperweight and hurling it at the wall. It missed the door by inches and shattered against the floor.
How had she allowed this to happen?
Her heart pounded as she picked up her phone and dialed Richard's number.
Richard Zhou was in the middle of a board meeting when his phone vibrated for the third time. Annoyed, he stepped out of the room to answer.
"What is it?"
Lena's voice came through, urgent and shaking. "Richard… he has a video. Of us. Last night."
Richard froze. "What?!"
"I tried everything—he wouldn't take money, wouldn't even fall for seduction." Lena bit her lip, hating how weak she sounded. "It's Eric."
That name hit him like ice water. The same Eric whose promotion he'd snatched away, the same man he'd humiliated just months ago.
"You mean that loser?"
"He's not acting like one," Lena muttered, pacing. "He said the video's already backed up. He's not bluffing."
Richard cursed under his breath. "Fine. Stall him. Buy time. I'll handle it."
Lena hung up, her hands trembling.
She sat down slowly, staring out the window.
The powerful woman everyone feared—the one who ruled the office with stilettos and scorn—was now being played like a pawn.
And what hurt most?
Richard didn't even sound surprised. Didn't sound worried about her. He was protecting himself.
That was when the pain started turning into something else.
Clarity.
Meanwhile, back at his desk, Eric stared at his computer screen but wasn't really seeing it.
His mind was elsewhere—on his wife, Bianca.
The image from the company brochure still haunted him. Her hand resting just a bit too casually on that man's arm. The way she leaned in. That smile.
He had no solid evidence yet, but something felt wrong. And instincts… never lied.
Then, a voice popped into his ear like a ghost from the past.
"Yo, bro! What's with the face? You look like you swallowed a stapler."
Eric turned. A tall, dark-skinned man in a rumpled blazer grinned at him, carrying two cups of cheap coffee.
"Blackie," Eric muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I sensed danger from twenty cubicles away," Blackie whispered conspiratorially. "What's up, you finally snapped and poisoned the water cooler?"
Eric chuckled. "Close. Let's talk somewhere private."
As they walked toward the stairwell, Eric knew one thing for sure:
The game had changed.
And Lena?
She wasn't the queen anymore.
Just another piece on the board.