Content Warning

This chapter contains references to psychological abuse, obsession, compulsive behaviors, emotional dissociation, and mention of sexual content linked to power dynamics. Reader discretion is advised.

Noah left the office past two in the morning, his body exhausted and his mind far too awake. Before leaving the building, he checked his bank balance: barely enough to call a taxi. He didn’t feel capable of walking or taking public transportation at that hour, yet he hesitated for a few seconds. Money was a limited resource, and the days ahead promised to be long.

In the end, he gave in. He had a responsibility to fulfill. A silent promise he had made to himself: to prove to Sebastian Cross that he was not mediocre, that he could handle the workload, and that he deserved that position.

When he arrived at his small rented apartment half an hour later, he left his keys on the table and went straight to the bathroom. The shower was brief, almost mechanical. Hot water slid over his body while his mind returned, again and again, to the same question:

Why such excessive demands?

Noah had worked at other companies. He knew what pressure was, impossible deadlines, long workdays. He understood that adapting was part of the job.

But this was different. Working for Sebastian —and living with the open contempt of his coworkers— had turned the workplace into a suffocating space. Each day felt like a new test, one he never quite managed to pass.

Even so, as always, he chose to endure. Not to question, much less complain.

He decided not to think anymore. At least not during that early morning. He needed rest.

He lay down with his body worn out and set his phone alarm much earlier than usual. He wanted to be the first to arrive at the office. If time was his enemy, then he would have to get ahead of it.

***

Sebastian arrived at his apartment hours earlier. His penthouse welcomed him with the pristine silence of spaces far too large for one person. He showered slowly, letting the water run down his toned back while a persistent image forced its way into his mind: Noah.

He couldn’t deny it —he had enjoyed tormenting him. The tension in his eyes, the rigidity in his posture, the way he clenched his fists trying to maintain composure. It gave him an uncomfortable… and dangerous satisfaction.

Like Noah, he couldn’t sleep either.

But unlike him, he wasn’t seeking rest.

“Does he really not remember?” he thought.

Sebastian placed one hand against the bathroom wall, breathing deeply. Had Noah changed that much since high school? For him, no. He still spoke nervously, still walked the same way, as if always expecting an invisible reprimand. As if he were still used to asking permission to exist.

He stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and headed to his study. From a drawer, he pulled out a school yearbook. He hesitated for a moment before opening it.

The pages took him back to another time. He stopped at a photograph: him and Noah, shoulder to shoulder, leaning toward each other, sharing a carefree smile. Sebastian ran his fingers over Noah’s image, unsure what to do with the knot forming in his chest.

He had been the only person who understood him. The only one who made him feel special. The only one who didn’t judge him.

“How do you reach someone like that… without making them hate you?” he murmured to himself.

He snapped the yearbook shut.

Maybe that was the answer. Comparing the thirteen-year-old Noah to the thirty-two-year-old man was absurd. Noah had changed. His body was stronger, his expression harsher. He no longer smiled easily. He wore impeccable suits, had abandoned old habits, even his love for baseball. All of it irritated Sebastian more than he wanted to admit.

He picked up his phone and typed a message.

“He doesn’t seem to remember anything. I don’t know what to do.”

The reply came almost immediately.

“Does that really surprise you?” wrote Damien Sinclair, the man he was speaking with. “People like Noah always pretend to forget whatever suits them.”

Damien was thirty-seven years old and held a relevant position within Blast Corp. He didn’t expose himself or draw attention; he preferred to move along the margins, observing, listening, measuring every word before speaking. He was someone Sebastian turned to when he needed certainty, when doubt began to erode his control.

Sebastian frowned.

“He doesn’t seem aware of anything.”

“That’s what he wants you to believe,” Damien replied. “If he were innocent, he wouldn’t be so comfortable under your gaze. Ask him directly. Watch him when you do.”

Sebastian tightened his grip on the phone.

“I’m your lawyer,” Damien continued, “but also the only one who won’t lie to you. You trusted me to bring him back into your life. Don’t be naïve now.”

The words struck his nerves.

Anger exploded. Sebastian hurled the yearbook against the wall.

“Why the hell did I keep this…?” he growled.

Every time he looked at those photos, the confusion returned. Affection and hatred mixed in impossible proportions. He didn’t know whether he wanted to punish him… or reclaim him.

Without thinking too much, he typed another message.

“Get me someone.”

Damien took a few seconds to respond.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I know exactly who to send you.”

Sebastian didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

An hour later, the escort arrived. Damien had chosen carefully: a man with a build similar to Noah’s, soft features, dark hair, an expression that evoked something dangerously familiar. He wasn’t identical, but close enough to deceive memory… or desire.

He was slightly older than Sebastian, but that didn’t matter.

“Put this on,” Sebastian instructed, handing him a blue shirt almost identical to the one Noah usually wore at the office. “Just this.”

The man obeyed without asking questions.

And Sebastian closed his eyes as he lay down on the bed, waiting for the escort to position himself accordingly.

It wasn’t Noah. He knew that —but that night, the truth wasn’t what he was looking for.

And a few minutes later, he and the man were already giving in to the intimate moment, Sebastian being the one who moved with forceful thrusts, holding control over the body of that substitute.

From afar, Damien understood the mechanism all too well. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was control, substitution, and… punishment.

***

The next day, Noah woke before dawn. He ate a light breakfast and prepared a simple lunch, which he packed in his lunchbox. He had a clear plan. He wouldn’t waste time.

He left his apartment and headed to the bus stop with determination. When he arrived at the office, the building was empty —he had achieved his first objective. Without stopping to think, he turned on his computer and began to work.