Jack's fingers moved across the keyboard with exhaustion. The lines of code on the screen were starting to blur—his eyes were burning, his shoulders stiff.
He checked the clock.
5:47 PM.
Just thirteen more minutes. Then freedom.
Sitting on the seventeenth floor of Elyndor Digital Ventures, Jack Reed had only one thought today—going home. His mother had said this morning that she'd make his favorite potato curry. His father would need his medicine by now. And most importantly, he needed to escape the suffocating air of this office.
This had been his routine for the past three months. Arrive at nine, leave at six. IT work—server maintenance, data backups, system checks. Straightforward, clean.
Getting this job had felt like luck. A company like this in Zenthara, good salary, respectable work. For the first time, there was relief at home—his father's medications were covered, his mother worried less.
But today, for some reason, Jack felt uneasy.
Like something was about to happen.
He shook his head and focused back on the screen. Just finish the work and leave.
Then—
"Jack Reed. Cabin 1807. Now."
The voice came through the intercom.
But this voice... was different.
Not cold. Rather... tired. Broken.
Jack's brow furrowed.
Zara Walters.
The company's owner. After her father Victor Walters' death, the company was in her name—but in reality, her uncle ran everything. Marcus Walters, Victor's younger brother, who was now the company's chairman.
There was very little talk about Zara in the office. People watched her from afar—beautiful, quiet, but always alone. She never talked much to anyone. Just stayed in her cabin and worked.
Jack checked the clock. 5:50 PM.
Now? At this time?
He took a deep breath and stood up.
The coworkers at nearby desks were watching him—some with curiosity, some with relief that they hadn't been called.
"Good luck, man," Rohan from the next desk said quietly.
Jack said nothing, just nodded and headed toward the cabin.
Cabin number 1807—in the corner, completely surrounded by glass walls, but you needed special permission to see inside. The blinds were always closed.
Jack knocked on the door.
"Come in."
The voice was tired. Lifeless.
He opened the door.
And the scene inside... made him stop.
Zara Walters was sitting in her chair, but her condition... was different.
She held a wine glass in her hand—half empty. A bottle sat on the table, nearly finished. Her hair, which was always perfectly styled, was now disheveled. Her black pencil skirt and white blouse were slightly messy.
And her eyes...
Jack looked carefully.
They were moist. As if she'd been crying. Or wanted to cry.
"Sit down," Zara said, but her voice lacked its usual strength.
Jack slowly entered and sat in the chair. His heart was racing.
What's happened?
Zara took a sip of wine, then set the glass on the table. She looked at Jack, and in her eyes... there was pain. Deep, hidden pain.
"I need to give you some work," Zara said softly.
Jack said nothing, just waited.
Zara gestured to a thick file on the table.
"Weston Industries," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Their server map, access points, security layers... everything's in this file. I need... I need this analyzed by tonight."
She took another sip of wine, this time more.
"But I... I can't do it," she said, closing her eyes. "You'll do it. I need the complete plan by tomorrow morning."
Jack's eyebrows tensed.
"By tonight?" he said, a hint of anger in his voice. "But it's almost six—"
"I know," Zara cut him off, but there was no anger in her voice. Just... defeat.
She opened her eyes again, and this time Jack saw clearly.
Tears.
Faint, but there.
Jack's heart sank.
"Zara..." he said quietly, "what's wrong?"
Zara tried to laugh, but the laugh was hollow.
"Nothing," she said, lifting the wine glass again. "Just... work."
But Jack understood.
This wasn't just work.
He leaned forward slightly.
"If there's a problem, then—"
"Problem?" Zara cut him off, and this time there was some anger in her voice. "Yes, Jack. There's a problem. Many problems."
She emptied the wine glass and started refilling it from the bottle.
"My uncle," she said, her voice now shaking, "he wants me to marry his son. Damien."
Jack stayed silent.
"After father's death," Zara continued, "the company is in my name, but in reality... uncle handles everything. And now he wants the company to go completely into Damien's hands after the marriage."
She took a sip of wine, her eyes becoming moist.
"And I... I can't do anything. Because if I refuse, they'll destroy the company. Father's hard work... everything will be finished."
Jack's throat went dry.
Now everything made sense.
"That's why," Zara said, "I have to do this work. Hack Weston. Because uncle ordered it. And if I don't..."
She stopped. Tears were now clearly visible.
Jack wanted to say something, but words wouldn't come.
Zara took a deep breath and pushed the file toward Jack.
"Please," she said quietly, her voice now almost begging. "I need your help. I... I can't do this alone."
Jack looked at the file, then at Zara.
Her eyes... they were broken.
Jack picked up the file.
"Okay," he said softly.
Relief flashed in Zara's eyes for a moment.
"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling.
Jack stood up, file in hand, and started to leave.
But at the door, he stopped.
"Zara," he said, turning back, "are you... are you okay?"
Zara held the wine glass and gave a slight smile—completely fake.
"Yes," she said. "Just... a little tired."
Jack knew it was a lie.
But he said nothing. Just nodded and walked out.
It was seven in the evening.
The office was nearly empty. Lights dim, silence deep. Just the distant hum of the AC and occasional sounds of elevator doors opening.
Jack sat at his desk, file open, looking at data on the screen.
Weston Industries.
One of Zenthara's biggest companies. And Elyndor Digital Ventures' biggest rival.
But now Jack understood—this wasn't just business. This was something else. Something deeper.
Marcus Walters was pressuring Zara. And Zara... she was just a girl trying to save her father's legacy.
Jack took a deep breath and started working.
Then—
Footsteps.
Jack looked up.
Zara.
Walking down the corridor, stumbling. She still held the wine bottle—nearly empty.
"Still here?" she asked, stopping near Jack's desk. Her voice was heavy, intoxicated.
"You asked me to," Jack replied quietly.
Zara laughed. But there was pain in the laugh.
"Yes," she said, taking the last sip from the bottle. "I did."
She swayed.
Jack immediately stood and caught her.
"Zara, you're not okay," he said, concern in his voice.
"I'm fine," Zara insisted, but then stumbled and fell against Jack's shoulder.
Jack caught her. His heart was racing.
"Zara, sit down," he said, helping her into his chair.
But Zara grabbed his hand.
"Jack," she whispered, her eyes now completely moist. "I'm... I'm lonely. So lonely."
Jack's throat went dry.
"After father left," Zara continued, her voice now breaking, "no one stood by me. Uncle, Damien, everyone... everyone just wants the company. Not me."
She gripped Jack's hand tightly.
"But you," she said, a strange gleam in her eyes—from intoxication, but something else too. "You... you're different."
"Zara—" Jack started to say.
But Zara suddenly turned his chair and sat in his lap.
Jack's breath stopped.
"What are you doing?" he said quietly, raising his hands in the air, avoiding touching her.
"I don't... I don't want to be alone," Zara whispered, her eyes now on Jack's face. "Just for a while. Please."
Jack's heart was pounding, but he understood.
This wasn't sexual. This was... just the pain of loneliness.
Zara rested her head on Jack's shoulder.
"You... you're good," she said softly. "You understand me. I know you do."
Jack breathed slowly.
"Zara," he said, "you need rest."
"No," Zara said, her voice now like crying. "I just... I just need someone."
Jack stayed silent.
Zara lifted her face and came very close to Jack.
"I like you," she whispered. "Very much."
Jack's throat went dry.
"You're... you're drunk," he said quietly.
"Yes," Zara said with a smile, but the smile held pain. "But even drunk, I don't lie."
She grabbed Jack's collar.
"You... you know I'm broken," Zara said, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "But still... you're here. Working for me."
Jack looked into her eyes.
There was only pain. Deep, lonely pain.
"I trust you," Zara whispered. "Only you."
And in the next moment, she placed her lips on Jack's.
Jack's mind went blank for a moment.
Zara's kiss—slow, broken, and filled with pain. Her hands were on Jack's shoulders, but there was no force. Just... hanging.
Jack didn't respond.
He just sat there, hands in the air, supporting Zara but not taking advantage of her.
A few seconds later, Zara pulled back. Tears were flowing from her eyes.
"You... you never respond," she said quietly, disappointment in her voice. "Why?"
Jack took a deep breath.
"Because," he said softly, "you're drunk. And I'm... I'm not the kind of man who takes advantage of someone's weakness."
Something changed in Zara's eyes.
Maybe respect. Maybe pain. Maybe both.
"That's why," she whispered, "that's why I trust you."
She got up from his lap, stumbling.
Jack steadied her.
"Come on," he said, "let me take you to your cabin."
Zara nodded, without saying anything.
Jack took Zara to her cabin. He helped her sit on the sofa, gave her a glass of water.
"Thank you," Zara said quietly, her eyes now closing.
"Rest," Jack said.
But as he was leaving, Zara grabbed his hand.
"Jack," she said, without opening her eyes. "You're... you're good. I know it."
Jack said nothing, just gently pulled his hand away and walked out.
It was ten at night when Jack finished the work.
The file had all the analysis—perfect, just as Zara wanted.
But Jack's mind was heavy.
Zara... she wasn't just a bad boss. She was a broken girl, destroying herself to save her father's legacy.
And Jack... he understood.
He was trapped the same way.
He closed the file, picked up his bag, and left the office.
Standing in the elevator, he touched his lips.
Zara's kiss... it wasn't just lust. It was pain. The pain of loneliness.
And Jack... he knew he would never take advantage of her.
Because Zara had trusted him.
And Jack Reed... he could sell his soul, but he could never break someone's trust.
End—Chapter 1