If anyone were to look at Sinclair Holdings that morning, they would assume nothing was wrong.
Phones rang.
Printers hummed.
Coffee machines worked overtime.
Employees walked with purpose, expressions focused, deadlines chased with quiet urgency.
The executive floor looked exactly the way it always did—efficient, disciplined, intimidating in its polished perfection.
Normal.
Which, as Kaya Kapoor had learned, was often the most dangerous state of all.
She sat at her desk, headset on, fingers flying over the keyboard as she confirmed meeting schedules, coordinated with finance, and fixed an error in a presentation that no one else had noticed yet. The large glass walls of Asher Sinclair's cabin loomed to her right, offering no indication of the man inside.
No glare.
No summons.
No "in the cabin, now."
She exhaled softly.
See? she told herself. Normal. Calm. You're not being hunted.
The company phone on her desk rang.
Not her mobile.
The company phone.
The one reserved for external calls meant for Asher Sinclair.
She straightened immediately and picked it up.
"Good morning, Sinclair Holdings," she said professionally. "Asher Sinclair's office. How may I assist you?"
Silence crackled on the other end.
Then a voice spoke—low, unfamiliar, rough around the edges.
"Tell Sinclair he's done."
Kaya blinked.
"I'm sorry?" she said politely. "Could you please repeat that?"
"He's finished," the voice said again. "Whatever game he's playing—it ends soon."
For a moment, she thought it was a prank.
Or a disgruntled ex-employee.
Or someone who had mistaken corporate ambition for villainy.
She leaned back in her chair slightly, unimpressed.
"Sir," she replied calmly,
"you'll need to be more specific. Mr. Sinclair finishes meetings, not careers. That's a scheduled activity."
There was a pause.
"You think this is funny?" the voice snapped.
She tilted her head, glancing toward Asher's cabin instinctively.
"No," she said thoughtfully.
"But if Mr. Sinclair hears you threatening him, I can guarantee you won't find it funny."
Another pause.
She continued, warming up now.
"In fact," she added lightly, "he has a very special talent for making people regret speaking before thinking. Economically. Socially. Existentially."
The voice on the other end growled.
"You crazy woman."
She smiled faintly.
"Occupational hazard."
"You'll be destroyed too," the man hissed.
"All of you."
The line went dead.
Kaya stared at the receiver for a long second.
"…Rude," she muttered, placing it back on the cradle.
Her brows furrowed.
Okay.
That had been… unusual.
She turned her chair slightly toward Asher's cabin.
I should tell him, she thought.
Threats—real or not—weren't something to ignore. Even empty ones mattered when directed at someone like Asher Sinclair.
She stood halfway from her seat.
And then her screen pinged.
URGENT: Finance needs revised projections. Now.
She groaned softly.
Five minutes, she told herself. I'll tell him in five minutes.
Five minutes turned into ten.
Ten turned into a call.
A call turned into another crisis.
And just like that, the threat slipped into the back of her mind—filed away under later.
By mid-afternoon, Kaya found herself inside Asher's cabin, tablet in hand, reviewing documents at the side table while Asher worked at his desk.
Rowan Sinclair lounged on the couch nearby, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling through something on his tablet with suspicious leisure.
The atmosphere was… normal.
Which made Kaya nervous.
Asher glanced up. "The figures on slide twelve."
She looked at the screen. "Adjusted as per your notes."
"You recalculated?"
"Yes."
"You checked legal compliance?"
"Yes."
"You verified with finance?"
"Yes," she said patiently.
He leaned back. "Are you sure?"
Rowan sighed dramatically and set his tablet down. "Ah. Here we go again."
Kaya shot Rowan a look. "Don't encourage him."
Asher's brow lifted. "Encourage what?"
"This,"
Rowan said, gesturing between them.
"The daily ritual where you pretend she's incompetent and she resists the urge to throw something."
Kaya smiled sweetly.
"Resists being the key word."
Asher ignored Rowan and turned back to her.
"Read the numbers again."
She inhaled. "Sir, unless the numbers have developed free will, they haven't changed in the last three minutes."
Rowan snorted.
Asher's eyes flicked briefly to his brother.
"Stay out of this."
"I would," Rowan replied cheerfully, "but this is my favorite show."
Kaya crossed her arms. "Do you trust me or not?"
Asher studied her. "I trust your work. I question your judgment."
Her lips thinned.
"Interesting. Because last time I checked, my judgment is why half your deals don't collapse."
Rowan leaned forward.
"Oh, this is good."
Asher's gaze sharpened. "Careful."
She met his eyes.
"I am being careful. You're being dramatic."
"Dramatic?" he repeated coolly.
"You left your boss alone at a high-profile party."
The room went very quiet.
Rowan froze mid-movement.
Kaya felt the floor beneath her feet dissolve.
If the ground could open up now, she thought wildly, I would jump.
She swallowed. "We're… still on that?"
"You made it memorable," Asher said evenly.
Rowan muttered, "Ouch."
Kaya clenched her jaw. "I did my job."
"You abandoned it."
Her pulse spiked.
She opened her mouth to argue—and suddenly remembered.
The call.
The threat.
The words spilled out before she could stop them.
"No wonder people want to destroy you."
Silence slammed into the room.
Rowan's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
Asher's gaze locked onto her.
"What did you say?" he asked calmly.
Too calmly.
Kaya realized her mistake instantly.
"…Nothing," she said weakly.
Rowan's eyes flicked between them, interest sharpening.
"That didn't sound like nothing."
Asher stood slowly.
"Kaya," he said, voice low. "Explain."
Her heart raced.
Great, she thought. Now you're dead twice.
She sighed. "I received a call today. On the company phone."
Rowan straightened. "A call?"
"Yes," she continued. "A threat. For him."
Asher's expression didn't change—but the room felt colder.
"And you forgot to mention this," he said softly.
"I didn't forget," she protested. "I got busy."
Rowan let out a low whistle. "That's not comforting."
Kaya looked between them.
"He sounded angry. Dramatic. Probably nothing."
Asher's eyes never left her face.
"Probably," he echoed.
And for the first time that day, normal finally cracked.
Asher stared at Kaya for a long second.
Then—
He laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
A short, amused sound escaped him, almost surprised, as if the idea itself had entertained him more than anything else that day.
"Probably?"
he repeated, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
"You said probably like someone threatens me every Tuesday."
Rowan blinked. "Wait—people don't?"
Asher ignored him, eyes still on Kaya.
"What do you mean by probably nothing?"
She shifted her weight slightly. "I mean… people say dramatic things all the time. Especially on phones. With anonymous courage."
Asher leaned back against the edge of his desk, arms folding loosely. "You think someone who threatens me over a company line is joking?"
"No," she said carefully. "I think they're stupid."
Rowan nodded approvingly. "Ah. A fair assessment."
Asher's lips curved faintly. "Stupid doesn't mean harmless."
"But it does mean reckless," Kaya replied.
"And reckless people like to sound bigger than they are."
Asher considered that for a moment.
Then he waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't think about the threat."
Rowan raised an eyebrow. "That's… very on brand for you."
Asher continued calmly, "Think about the fact that some idiot out there believes he has the guts to say my name like that."
His eyes darkened slightly—not with fear, but with something sharper.
"That takes confidence," he added. "Or desperation."
Kaya resisted the urge to shiver.
Confidence, she thought. Or a very short life expectancy.
She lowered her gaze back to her tablet, but her mind kept spinning.
Wow, her inner voice muttered. I'd like to take a moment of silence for that fool.
Because whatever happens next, he's not surviving it socially, professionally, or spiritually.
She imagined the anonymous caller waking up one morning to frozen bank accounts, vanished contacts, and a sudden urge to move continents.
Rest in peace, random idiot, she continued internally. You had guts. Not brains.
Rowan stretched lazily.
"So… do we ignore this or ruin someone's life quietly?"
Asher straightened. "For now? Ignore it."
That made Kaya look up.
"Really?"
"Yes," he said evenly. "Anyone who wants attention hates being ignored."
Rowan hummed. "Bold strategy."
Asher's gaze flicked briefly to Kaya. "If they try again, we'll address it."
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
The tension in the room loosened—just slightly.
Enough for Kaya's shoulders to relax.
Enough for the moment to feel… contained.
Then—
Every phone in the room vibrated at the exact same time.
The sound was sharp. Sudden. Unified.
Three devices.
One alert.
Kaya froze.
Rowan frowned, already reaching for his phone. "That's… weird."
Asher glanced down at his screen, expression unreadable.
Kaya's fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked her phone
A message notification filled the screen.
Unknown Sender
Her breath caught.
She opened it.
Her eyes widened.
Blood drained from her face.
Rowan noticed immediately. "Okay. I don't like that look."
Asher's gaze snapped to her. "Kaya."
She swallowed.
"That… fool," she said slowly, voice barely above a whisper, "wasn't bluffing."
Both men looked at her sharply.
"What did it say?" Rowan asked.
Kaya turned the phone toward them.
The message was short.
Precise.
And terrifyingly confident.
Her throat tightened.
"…He wasn't dramatic," she continued quietly. "He was prepared."
The room went still.
Outside the glass walls, the office carried on—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, life continuing blissfully unaware.
Inside the cabin, something shifted.
Asher's jaw tightened.
Not in anger.
In recognition.
Rowan let out a low breath. "Well," he muttered, "that escalated."
Asher didn't speak.
His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
And for the first time since the morning began, the threat felt real.