Isabella worked until 11:30 PM that night.
The office was empty, silent except for the hum of computers and the occasional ping of the elevator. Her desk had been cleaned, her keyboard replaced, and the report—perfectly corrected—sat on Liam's desk where he'd demanded it.
He'd returned from lunch at 2:00 PM, reviewed it without comment, and disappeared into meetings for the rest of the day. No acknowledgment. No thank you. Nothing.
Isabella stared at her computer screen, her eyes burning, trying to get ahead on tomorrow's work. If she made one more mistake, one more error, Liam would fire her. She knew it. The threat hung over her head like a guillotine.
She couldn't lose this job. Couldn't lose the contract. Couldn't lose everything she'd sacrificed for.
A chill ran through her, and Isabella pulled her cardigan tighter. The office air conditioning was always too cold, but tonight it felt arctic. Her throat ached. Her head pounded.
Just tired, she told herself. Just stress.
She worked another hour, then finally gave up. Her vision was blurring, and she'd read the same email three times without comprehending it.
The penthouse was dark when she arrived at 1:00 AM. Liam's bedroom door was closed, no light underneath. Either he wasn't home yet, or he was asleep.
Isabella stumbled to her room, barely managing to change into pajamas before collapsing into bed.
She was asleep in seconds.
And woke up four hours later feeling like death.
The Next Morning
Isabella's alarm went off at 5:30 AM, and she immediately knew something was wrong.
Her throat felt like she'd swallowed glass. Her head throbbed with each heartbeat. Her body ached everywhere, and she was simultaneously freezing and burning up.
She tried to sit up and the room spun.
No, she thought desperately. Not now. Not today.
She couldn't be sick. Couldn't show weakness. Not after yesterday's humiliation, not after Liam's warning, not when she was already on thin ice.
She forced herself out of bed, immediately regretting it as her legs nearly gave out. The shower helped slightly, the hot water easing some of the ache in her muscles, but when she looked in the mirror, she looked terrible.
Pale. Dark circles under her eyes. Lips cracked. She looked like a corpse.
Isabella applied extra makeup, trying to hide the worst of it. Put on her most professional outfit. Tied her hair back in a tight bun.
Just get through today, she told herself. You can collapse tonight.
She made it to the kitchen, where Liam was already at the island, working on his laptop as usual.
He didn't look up when she entered. Didn't acknowledge her at all.
Isabella made coffee with shaking hands, praying he wouldn't notice. Praying she could just survive the next twelve hours.
"The Tanaka meeting is at nine," Liam said without looking up. "I need the presentation deck uploaded to the conference room system by eight-thirty. The contracts for the merger need to be reviewed and marked with revision notes by noon. And I'm meeting with the board at three—I'll need briefing notes on the quarterly performance."
"Yes, Mr. Black," Isabella whispered, her voice hoarse.
Liam's fingers paused on the keyboard. But he didn't look up. Just resumed typing.
Isabella grabbed her coffee and headed for the door, desperate to get to the office before she collapsed.
"Six-thirty," Liam called after her. "Same as yesterday."
"I'll be ready."
She wasn't ready. She could barely stand.
But she'd be there anyway.
By 10:00 AM, Isabella was running on pure willpower.
She'd gotten through the presentation upload—though it took three tries because her vision kept blurring. The contracts were on her desk, but she'd only made it through two pages because she couldn't concentrate. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she'd spilled coffee on herself twice.
And she was so cold. The office felt like a freezer, even though everyone else looked comfortable.
"Ms. Hart."
Isabella jerked upright at her desk. When had she closed her eyes?
Jennifer from accounting stood there, concern on her face. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine," Isabella said automatically. "Just tired."
"You look like you have the flu. Maybe you should go home—"
"I'm FINE." The words came out harsher than intended, and Jennifer stepped back.
"Okay. Sorry." Jennifer walked away quickly.
Isabella pressed her hands to her face. She couldn't do this. Couldn't keep pretending. But she had no choice.
At 11:30 AM, her computer pinged.
My office. Now. - LB
Isabella's stomach dropped. She grabbed the partially reviewed contracts with trembling hands and headed for Liam's office.
He sat behind his desk, his expression thunderous, holding a document.
"Explain this," he said coldly.
Isabella looked at the paper and her heart sank. It was one of the briefing notes for the board meeting. She'd sent it to him an hour ago.
And there was a typo in the third paragraph. A glaring, stupid typo that she'd missed because her head was pounding and her vision was swimming.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll fix it immediately—"
"This is the second day in a row you've submitted flawed work!" Liam stood, his voice rising. "What the hell is wrong with you? This is basic competence, Hart. BASIC."
Isabella swayed on her feet, catching herself on the chair.
Liam's eyes narrowed. "Are you drunk?"
"What? No!" Isabella's voice cracked. "I would never—"
"Then explain why you look like you're about to pass out!"
"I'm not—" Isabella started, but a coughing fit cut her off. Deep, rattling coughs that shook her entire body.
When she finally stopped, Liam was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read.
"You're sick," he said flatly.
"I'm fine."
"You're clearly not fine. You look like death."
"I can work," Isabella insisted, even as another shiver ran through her. "I just need—"
"You need to sit down before you collapse," Liam interrupted, his voice sharp.
Isabella grabbed the back of the chair for support, determined not to show weakness. "The board meeting is in four hours. You need the briefing notes. I can finish them—"
"Hart." Liam's voice was quieter now, but harder. "When did this start?"
"I don't know what—"
"When did you start feeling sick?"
Isabella hesitated. "Last night. But it's just a cold, I can—"
"And you came to work anyway." Liam's jaw tightened. "Did you take anything for it?"
"I didn't have time—"
"Didn't have time." Liam repeated the words like they were in a foreign language. He walked around his desk, and Isabella instinctively stepped back.
He stopped a few feet away, close enough that she could see the calculation in his eyes. He was studying her—pale complexion, trembling hands, the way she was barely staying upright.
"You're burning up," he said quietly. "I can see it from here."
"I'm fine," Isabella insisted, but her voice broke. "I can finish the work. I can—"
"You're useless like this," Liam cut her off, his voice returning to that cold, harsh tone. "Completely useless. Making errors, coughing everywhere, contaminating the office."
Each word was a knife, but Isabella forced herself to stand straight. "I'll be more careful—"
"Go home," Liam said flatly.
"Mr. Black, please—"
"That wasn't a request, Ms. Hart. Go home. Don't come back until you're actually productive."
The dismissal was brutal, public, loud enough that executives passing by could hear. Isabella felt her eyes burn with humiliation and fever.
"But the board meeting—"
"I'll handle it myself. Clearly, I can't depend on you in this condition." Liam turned away from her, returning to his desk. "You're dismissed. And don't bother coming back until you can actually do your job properly."
Isabella stood frozen, the words hitting harder than they should. He was firing her. Or close to it. After everything—after the contract, after the wedding, after she'd sacrificed everything—he was throwing her out for being sick.
"Mr. Black—"
"GET OUT, Ms. Hart. Before I make this permanent."
The threat hung in the air.
Isabella grabbed her things from his office with shaking hands and stumbled out. The entire floor had heard. Again. Another public humiliation. Another reminder of her place.
She made it to her desk, threw her belongings into her bag, and headed for the elevator.
Behind her, she heard whispers.
"...can't believe she showed up looking like that..."
"...Black's patience is finally running out..."
"...give it a week, she's gone..."
The elevator doors closed, and Isabella collapsed against the wall.
She'd failed. Again. And this time, she might have finally pushed Liam too far.
Isabella made it back to the penthouse in a daze. The doorman gave her a concerned look but said nothing as she stumbled past.
The apartment was empty—Liam was still at work, still handling everything she'd failed to do.
She made it to her room, collapsed onto the bed fully clothed, and finally let herself surrender to the fever.
Hours passed in a blur. Hot, then cold, then hot again. Dreams mixed with reality. She heard her phone buzzing but couldn't reach it. Heard the penthouse door open at some point but couldn't move.
At some point—she didn't know when—her bedroom door opened.
"...idiotic woman..."
Liam's voice, harsh and frustrated.
Isabella tried to open her eyes but couldn't. Tried to respond but only managed a weak sound.
"...temperature is 103..."
Wait. How did he know her temperature?
Cool fingers pressed against her forehead, and Isabella instinctively leaned into the touch. It felt so good against her burning skin.
"...pharmacy said thirty minutes..."
More time passed. Isabella drifted in and out, barely aware of anything except the fever consuming her.
Then someone was lifting her head, pressing a glass of water to her lips.
"Drink," Liam's voice commanded, quieter now but still firm.
Isabella drank automatically, the cool water soothing her burning throat. Pills were placed on her tongue, more water, then her head was lowered back to the pillow.
A cool, damp cloth pressed against her forehead.
"Stupid," Liam's voice said above her. "Coming to work like this. Completely stupid."
Isabella wanted to respond, to defend herself, to remind him that he'd threatened to fire her if she made more mistakes. But she couldn't form words.
The cloth was removed, re-dampened, returned.
"Rest," Liam said, his voice carrying a strange note. "That's an order."
And for once, Isabella couldn't disobey.