Content Warning

This chapter contains scenes of workplace harassment, public humiliation, psychological manipulation, and coercive power dynamics. Reader discretion is advised.

Sebastian got out of bed without looking at the man sleeping beside him. With a curt gesture, he indicated that he should leave. There were no goodbyes, no unnecessary words. Once alone, he had breakfast calmly: a balanced, measured meal, designed to maintain control even over his own body, and then headed to the gym.

He trained every morning. It was a ritual as important as any meeting. There, his presence never went unnoticed. He knew he was being watched, that his physique drew attention, and it didn’t bother him. On the contrary, that attention reinforced the image he had built of himself. Discipline, dominance… will.

Later, he drove his sports car to Blast Corp. Most of the employees had not yet arrived, but something caught his attention immediately.

Noah was already there. Sitting in his cubicle, focused, reviewing documents with an almost stubborn seriousness. Sebastian allowed himself a slight smile, barely perceptible, before returning to his usual expression. He entered his office without greeting anyone, as always, but he couldn’t deny the surprise Noah’s discipline caused him. That constant need to prove that he deserved to be there.

Noah, for his part, had been awake for hours. He had arrived before any other employee, even before the security guard, determined to go over the presentation one last time. Every figure, every chart, every word. Even so, the anxiety would not ease. He knew the meeting would be another test. He knew who would be leading it.

When the time came, he walked toward the room with his stomach tightly clenched.

***

The meeting room was overly lit. Fifteen employees, both upper management and their subordinates, were already seated. Noah always thought the same thing: white light left no place to hide. Everything was visible with clarity, even mistakes that had not yet been made.

“Alright,” he whispered, his hands sweaty, trying to do his best.

Sebastian Cross stood at the front, reviewing the slides in silence. He didn’t seem rushed —he never did. That calm of his was part of the problem.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Let’s begin.”

Noah straightened his back immediately. He had prepared that report almost perfectly. He had reviewed it three times, then a fourth just hours before. Even so, he felt the weight in his stomach, as if something were wrong and his body knew it before his mind did.

Sebastian moved through the slides without commenting.

Too much silence, and suddenly…

“Noah,” he finally said, without looking at him. “Would you like to explain this part to us?”

Noah stood up, holding the tablet with hands that only appeared steady.

“Y-yes, of course. Here I made a projection based on last quarter’s data, taking into account…”

“No,” Sebastian interrupted, raising a hand. “Not that. Explain to them why you thought this was acceptable.”

The air tightened. Some lowered their gaze, others pretended to be interested in their notes.

Noah blinked.

“I… followed the model we approved in the previous meeting.”

Sebastian turned slowly, finally looking at him.

“Exactly. That’s the problem.”

He didn’t raise his voice. There was no explicit sarcasm. Just a precise disappointment, deliberate.

“The model was a reference, Noah. You’re supposed to be intelligent. If you need everything spelled out in order to function, perhaps we need to reconsider certain responsibilities.”

An uncomfortable laugh came from the far end of the table. Noah felt the heat rush to his face.

“I-I can review it,” he said quickly, checking his data with evident nervousness. “Adjust the projections and…”

“No,” that final, definitive tone. “I knew you weren’t sufficiently prepared, so… I already did it.”

Sebastian changed the slide. The corrected version appeared on the screen. It was flawless, clearer and more effective.

“This is what I expected,” he continued. “The difference between meeting expectations and standing out. Noah, you look tired… it’s obvious you rushed through everything.”

Noah sat down slowly. No one was looking at him anymore, and that hurt almost more.

From the other side of the table, Nicholas Lawson observed in silence. He was tall, broad-shouldered, thirty-four years old, wearing loose clothing that contrasted with the others’ suits. He smelled of cigarette smoke and didn’t seem uncomfortable with it. He worked in IT and, unlike the others, did not smile or join the collective gesture of approval. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid, as if holding back a comment he knew he shouldn’t make.

A few seats away sat Damien Sinclair. Always positioned at Sebastian’s left hand. A deep scar ran along the right side of his face, from his eyebrow almost to his lips. He was elegant, impeccable, attentive just enough not to stand out. In addition to being the lawyer of his lackey, he held a high-ranking position in the company and watched the scene with calculated interest, as if assessing more than a simple presentation.

Sebastian closed the file, feigning frustration at what he considered his employee’s incompetence.

“We move on. Noah, take notes. I don’t want you demonstrating your incompetence.”

Noah nodded, ashamed of his presentation.

***

The meeting ended without further incident a few hours later, but the damage was already done. Noah was gathering his things with clumsy hands when Sebastian approached him.

“One moment.”

It wasn’t an order; it didn’t need to be. Sebastian waited until the room was empty. When the door closed, the silence grew heavy.

“I noticed you were distracted,” he said, adjusting his watch. “That’s not like you.”

Noah lowered his gaze.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not,” Sebastian stepped closer, invading his personal space. “Because I’m starting to wonder whether you’re really up to the task, or if you’re only here out of… habit.”

The word cut deep.

“I’ve been giving my best,” Noah replied, his voice low but steady. “I just need…”

“What? More time? Understanding? You’re not a child. Grow up!”

Sebastian smiled faintly.

“That’s not how the world works. And you should know that better than anyone.”

Noah felt the urge to defend himself, to say something. But his mind went blank. As always, when Sebastian adopted that soft tone.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he ordered.

And, as expected, Noah obeyed.

“I’m not attacking you,” Sebastian continued. “I’m shaping you. If I can’t demand excellence from you, who will?”

Noah swallowed and nodded obediently.

“Thank you for… the correction.”

Sebastian seemed satisfied.

“Good,” he turned toward the door. “Tomorrow I want a new version of the report. This time, without mistakes.”

When he left, Noah remained alone in the room, and the light was still too white.