If Maya's personal life had begun to feel unstable, her professional world was the opposite—precise, demanding, and ruthlessly honest.
Zenith Communications occupied the upper floors of a glass-and-steel tower in Cristalvale's corporate district, where sunlight refracted through boardrooms like a promise of success. Maya arrived early, as she always did, heels clicking softly against polished floors, mind already mapping the day ahead.
Work was where she breathed.
By nine a.m., she was leading a strategy meeting, laser-focused as campaign data scrolled across the screen behind her.
"Our engagement metrics increased twelve percent after repositioning the narrative," she said, pointer steady in her hand. "The audience doesn't just want a product. They want to believe in a story."
A few executives exchanged impressed looks.
"And the story," Maya continued, "has to feel authentic. Consumers can sense manipulation. Trust is the currency now."
The irony of that didn't escape her.
When the meeting ended, her manager, Daniel Roth, fell into step beside her. "You should've seen their faces," he said. "That pitch could've come from a senior partner."
She smiled, a little tired. "I just did the work."
"That's exactly my point."
Back at her desk, Maya allowed herself a moment of quiet pride. She'd earned every inch of her career—late nights, sacrificed weekends, relentless self-discipline. No shortcuts. No favors. She liked knowing that if everything else in her life fell apart, this part would still stand.
Her phone buzzed.
Brandon: Thinking about you.
She stared at the message. Once, it would've warmed her instantly. Now, it felt… delayed. Like an echo.
She replied anyway.
Hope your meetings are going well.
The response came quickly.
Always do. Dinner tonight? I'll make it up to you.
She hesitated, then typed back Sure.
At lunch, Victoria called.
"You're busy," Victoria said lightly, when Maya answered. "I can hear it in your voice."
"Just work," Maya replied. "What's up?"
"Brandon mentioned you've been stressed. I thought we could do drinks. Just us."
The words settled uncomfortably.
"He said that?" Maya asked.
"Of course. He worries about you."
Funny, Maya thought. So do I.
"Another time," she said. "I'm swamped."
"Rain check," Victoria agreed easily. Too easily.
That afternoon, Zenith hosted a joint charity symposium—business leaders, investors, philanthropists mingling under banners about innovation and social responsibility. Maya attended as part of the marketing team, expecting nothing more than polite networking.
She was halfway through a conversation about brand ethics when the room subtly shifted.
It wasn't dramatic. No announcements. No sudden hush.
Just… awareness.
People straightened. Voices lowered. Attention angled toward the entrance.
Maya glanced over her shoulder.
The man who entered didn't need introduction.
Alexander Reid.
He moved with quiet certainty, tall and composed, dark suit tailored to perfection. Steel-gray eyes surveyed the room with calm intelligence, missing nothing. He didn't smile often, but when he did, it was intentional—measured, genuine.
Valmont Industries' CEO. One of the most powerful men in the world.
Maya had seen his name in headlines, his face on business magazines. He looked different in person—less polished, more real. Like a storm held carefully in check.
He spoke briefly with the event organizers, then began circulating.
Maya told herself she didn't care.
She was wrong.
Their eyes met across the room.
It was only a second. Two strangers acknowledging each other in a crowd of hundreds. But something subtle passed between them—curiosity, perhaps. Recognition of something unspoken.
Alexander inclined his head slightly, polite.
Maya nodded back, surprised by the flutter in her chest.
Get a grip, she told herself. You're engaged.
The moment passed. Conversations resumed. Alexander moved on, already surrounded by executives eager for his attention.
Yet for the rest of the afternoon, Maya found herself unusually distracted.
Later, as the event wound down, she overheard two senior partners talking.
"Reid's reputation is solid," one said. "Brilliant, ethical. Not like most of them."
"Old money with a conscience," the other replied. "Rare combination."
Maya filed the information away without knowing why.
That evening, dinner with Brandon felt scripted.
He talked about deals, numbers, projections—always himself at the center of the story. Maya listened, nodded, asked questions when appropriate. She noticed how often he checked his phone. How his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Are you happy?" she asked suddenly.
He blinked. "Of course I am. Why?"
"I don't know," she said softly. "You just seem… elsewhere."
Brandon laughed, reaching for her hand. "You're overthinking again. Everything's fine."
His grip tightened briefly, as if to reassure himself more than her.
Maya smiled, because she always did.
But that night, lying awake beside him, she stared into the darkness and wondered when fine had started to feel so fragile.
And far beyond her awareness—beyond boardrooms and betrayals and carefully maintained lies—something ancient and patient took notice.
Not yet.
But soon.