The city of New York didn't care about the small things. It certainly didn't care about Liam Miller, a final-year intern at Vance Global who was currently tasked with shredding five hundred pounds of sensitive documents in the windowless basement of the Vance Tower.
It was 11:45 PM. Liam's eyes were stinging from the dust, and his fingers were numb from feeding the relentless machine. He was the definition of "unnoticed." He lived in a cramped studio in Queens, ate instant noodles, and spent his days avoiding the gaze of the "Gilded Ones"—the high-level executives who glided through the marble lobby upstairs.
"Just ten more boxes, Liam. Then you can sleep for four hours," he muttered to himself, his voice sounding hollow in the concrete room.
Thirty floors above him, in a suite that cost more than Liam would earn in a lifetime, Elena Vance stood against a floor-to-ceiling window. She was a vision of cold perfection—wearing a tailored white silk suit, her dark hair pulled back in a sharp, professional bun. Her eyes, a striking, icy gray, watched the city below.
"The merger is finalized, Ms. Vance," her assistant said from the doorway. "Shall I call your driver?"
"No," Elena replied, her voice like velvet wrapped around a blade. "I want to watch the moon tonight. Leave me."
Outside, a rare celestial event was unfolding. A "Super-Blue Moon" hung low over the skyline, appearing massive and unnaturally bright. Science called it an astronomical fluke; ancient texts called it the Tethering Light.
As the moon reached its zenith, a silent, invisible wave of energy swept through the Vance Tower.
In the basement, Liam suddenly felt a sharp, electric jolt in his chest. It wasn't a heart attack; it felt like a wire had been snapped taut inside his ribs. He fell back against a stack of boxes, gasping.
What... what was that?
At the same moment, in the penthouse, Elena Vance clutched the edge of her mahogany desk. Her breath hitched. A strange, pulsating warmth began to radiate from the center of her chest, spreading through her limbs.
"Is someone there?" she asked, her voice trembling—a sound that had never happened in her professional life.
Then, the first sensation hit.
Liam, feeling parched from the dust, reached for his bottle of cheap, ice-cold water. He took a long, deep swallow.
Thirty floors up, Elena's eyes widened. She felt a sudden, freezing chill slide down her own throat. She tasted the faint, plastic-aftertaste of bottled water. She wasn't holding a drink. Her glass of expensive Scotch sat untouched on the desk.
"What is happening to me?" she whispered, her hand going to her throat.
Downstairs, Liam felt a sudden, strange pressure on his ring finger. It felt like a heavy, cold band of metal. He looked at his hand. It was empty. But the sensation was undeniable—the weight of a five-carat diamond ring.
I'm losing my mind, Liam thought. He stood up, trying to shake off the feeling, and accidentally brushed his arm against the sharp metal edge of the shredder.
"Ow! Dammit!" he hissed, looking at the thin red line on his forearm.
In the penthouse, Elena let out a sharp, involuntary cry. She pulled back her sleeve, staring at her perfect, unblemished skin. There was no cut. There was no blood. But it stung. The sharp, biting pain of a fresh metal-scratch was burning on her arm.
"Who are you?" she gasped, looking around the empty room. "Where are you?!"
Liam froze. He didn't hear her voice with his ears. He heard it inside his head, vibrating with a resonance that made his skin prickle.
"Who... who are you talking to?" Liam whispered back, his voice echoing in Elena's mind.
The link was sealed. The CEO and the Intern were no longer two separate people. They were one biological circuit.
I can feel your heartbeat, Elena thought, her shock turning into a cold, focused panic. It's racing. You're scared. Why are you in a basement? It smells like... old paper?
And you're... you're high up, Liam thought back, his eyes wide. I can feel the wind against the glass. I can feel the silk of your suit. It's... it's so soft.
As Liam thought about the "softness" of the silk, a wave of heat traveled through the tether. Elena felt a sudden, visceral jolt of attraction—a masculine, raw curiosity that wasn't hers. It made her knees feel weak, a sensation she had never permitted herself to feel in her entire career.
"Stop it," she commanded, her face turning a deep, uncharacteristic red. "Stop feeling that! Get out of my head!"
"I'm sorry!" Liam shouted aloud, his face equally red in the basement.
For the first time in years, the "Iron Empress" was blushing because of a man she had never even met. And in the basement, the "Invisible Intern" was feeling the crushing, powerful loneliness of the woman who ruled the city.