Avery didn’t sleep well, though she tried. Every time she closed her eyes, pieces of yesterday drifted back—people glancing at her, managers whispering just loud enough to be overheard, the subtle change in the atmosphere around her name.

And the way Alexander had looked at her after the meeting, like her thoughts mattered. Like she mattered.

She woke up with a tightness in her chest she couldn’t quite name.

By the time she reached Reed Financial, she had braced herself for… something. She didn’t know what exactly. Maybe more looks. Maybe nothing at all, and the silence would feel even stranger.

But she didn’t expect the conversation she walked into.

Two analysts stood near the coffee machine, talking quietly. They weren’t whispering, but their voices carried just enough.

“I’m telling you, he keeps calling her up,” one said. “Every day now.”

“That’s not normal. Reed barely talks to half the directors.”

Avery froze mid-step.

“She must’ve done something to stand out.”

“Or he sees something the rest of us don’t.”

They both laughed—lightly, but it wasn’t cruel. It was curious. Observing. As if she were a datapoint they couldn’t quite classify.

Avery’s fingers tightened around her notebook before she forced herself to move past them.

She kept her head down as she settled into her seat. Her heart beat too loudly.

The lunch box was already there.

Of course it was.

For a moment she just stared at it, an uneasy knot forming in her stomach. She wasn’t upset the lunch was here—she never was—but it suddenly felt like something everyone else also saw. Something she could no longer tuck quietly inside her day.

She reached for the lid, trying to steady her breathing.

Jenna approached. “Morning, Collins.”

Avery snapped upright. “Morning!”

Jenna blinked at the volume but said nothing. “Update from upstairs. Reed wants the vendor reconciliation before noon. He said you’d know which version.”

Her pulse jumped. “He said that?”

“His exact words were, ‘Collins will know.’”

Avery’s breath stalled. She nodded quickly. “Okay. I’ll handle it.”

Jenna hesitated, as if deciding whether to add something else. In the end she simply said, “If you need support, let me know.”

And then she left.

Avery forced her focus onto her monitor, but her mind kept looping back to the analysts’ words.

What did they think they were seeing?

What exactly did she think she was seeing?

By late morning the reconciliation was done. She checked and re-checked it, feeling the weight of invisible eyes on her even though no one was actually watching.

When she emailed the file, the reply came faster than she could prepare for.

—from: A.Reed  

subject: Bring as discussed.

Her breath hitched.

She had no memory of “discussing” anything, but she understood what he meant: bring it up anyway.

On her way to the elevator, she passed the same pair of analysts from earlier. One of them nudged the other.

“She’s going up again?”

“Yeah. That’s the third time this week.”

“That’s… something.”

Avery hurried into the elevator before she had to hear the rest.

Her palms were damp.

When she stepped out on the thirty-ninth floor, she took a moment to breathe. The air up here always felt different—cooler, sharper, filtered through quiet corridors and expensive art. She walked toward the analysis room, unaware that someone else was watching her approach.

Alexander stood inside, his back to the windows, reviewing a set of charts on the mounted display. He turned as soon as she appeared in the doorway.

“Avery.”

Her name in his voice still startled her.

She stepped in. “I brought the reconciliation.”

He gestured to the table. “Walk me through it.”

She did, explaining each adjustment, each flagged inconsistency. He followed every word, occasionally tilting his head when she made a point he hadn’t anticipated.

When she finished, he closed the packet thoughtfully.

“You saw the vendor discrepancy before the others.”

“I just compared it to last quarter’s margins,” she murmured.

“Not everyone thinks to do that.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing.

Alexander studied her for a brief moment, his expression unreadable but focused. “People may start paying attention to you.”

Her heart stopped.

He didn’t say it lightly.

She swallowed. “I… noticed.”

His jaw tightened—just barely. “If anything is said to you that feels inappropriate, you tell me.”

Her mind stuttered. “It’s not—nothing like that’s happened.”

“Still.” His tone was firm. “You don’t handle these things alone.”

She stared at him, something warm and frightening settling under her ribs.

He wasn’t talking like a CEO. Not just one, at least.

The silence between them stretched—steady, charged, but not uncomfortable. Not until someone walked past outside the glass wall, slowing for a second as if curious.

Avery stiffened.

Alexander noticed immediately. His voice quieted. “They don’t matter.”

She didn’t know how he could say that so easily when she felt every glance like a heavy weight.

He picked up the packet again. “There’s a meeting at two. Sit in.”

She nodded. “Do you want me to prepare anything?”

“No.” His eyes lingered on her. “I want your read.”

Her pulse jumped.

She left the room feeling like her feet weren’t quite touching the ground.

On the way back down, she checked her phone. A new message from Riley.

—You’re ignoring me, which means something happened.  

Avery sighed and wrote: It’s complicated.  

Riley: —Oh so SOMETHING *did* happen.

Avery tucked her phone away before she said something she couldn’t take back.

The two o’clock meeting came too quickly.

When she walked in, conversations paused for just a second. It wasn’t rude. It was observational. People were noticing her presence, tracking where she sat, wondering why she was here so often.

She kept her eyes down as she took a seat.

Alexander arrived shortly after. He scanned the room, his attention catching on her for the smallest beat before he began speaking.

It was brief—barely half a second. But it was enough for others to notice.

A whisper behind her:

“He looked at her first.”

Avery nearly flinched.

The meeting moved quickly. When a discussion on budget allocation circled back to historical discrepancies, Alexander spoke without hesitation.

“Collins reviewed that last quarter.”

Again, multiple heads turned.

Avery felt heat climb her neck. “The margins didn’t line up with—”

“She identified the trend,” Alexander cut in, not dismissing but reinforcing.

The reinforcement made her chest tighten painfully.

When the meeting ended, Alexander followed the same pattern—dismissing everyone else before approaching her.

He stopped in front of her seat. “Good catch on the variance timing.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was relevant.”

“It was.” His gaze held hers. “You have a strong instinct.”

She felt her breath catch. “Thank you.”

He stepped back but didn’t leave. “Finish what you need to on fourteen. If there’s anything you want to discuss, you know where to find me.”

He said it so quietly she wasn’t sure anyone else could hear.

But someone had certainly seen.

When Avery exited the room, two senior staff members paused mid-conversation, eyes flicking from her to the direction Alexander had gone.

One whispered, “It’s definitely her.”

Her stomach dropped.

She hurried toward the elevator before she heard more.

Back on her floor, she sat at her desk, staring at her lunch box again. Only this time, it didn’t look like quiet comfort.

It looked like evidence.

Her phone buzzed. Riley again.

—Are you still alive????  

Avery typed slowly: People are starting to say things.  

Riley: —About YOU AND HIM??  

Avery didn’t reply. She didn’t have to.

The silence said everything.

And as she sat there, trying to calm her breath, she understood something terrifying—

Whatever this was between her and Alexander, it had crossed the threshold of private.

People were seeing it.  

Talking about it.  

Assuming things she wasn’t ready to name.

And the worst part was—

They weren’t wrong.