ONE YEAR WITH HIM

CHAPTE RFIVE

Days moved on with a dull, steady weight, each one echoing the same pattern: documents, deadlines, and conversations that felt identical to the day before.

Ava buried herself in her work, determined not to give Isabella’s pointed glances or whispered rumors of any space in her already crowded mind.

She reminded herself of one thing:

Her mother.

Her mother’s health.

Her mother’s survival.

Yet despite her discipline, something kept clawing at her consciousness.

Sebastian.

Cold. Controlled. Calculated.

He was always difficult, but lately… it felt personal. His words cut sharper, his tone held a silent accusation she couldn’t name. He dismissed her suggestions with effortless cruelty, even when she executed her tasks perfectly.

Why did it bother her so much?

Why did he bother her so much?

She tried to convince herself it was stress. Exhaustion. Overthinking.

Ava knocked lightly on his office door.

“Your updated schedule for tomorrow, sir,” she said, keeping her voice even.

Sebastian didn’t look up immediately. His fingers paused over the keyboard, and only then did he lift his gaze—slowly, deliberately.

“Your timing,” he said, “is off.”

Ava blinked. “Off? I’m actually—”

“Early,” he cut in. “You’re early, Ava. I don’t like surprises. Even small ones.”

Her brows knit together. “I… I didn’t think updating your schedule counted as a surprise.”

“It does when you appear without announcing yourself.” His eyes hardened. “Next time, wait until you’re called.”

She swallowed. The remark was unnecessary. Sharp. Almost cruel.

“I’m only trying to make things easier for you,” she murmured.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, studying her with a coldness that made the room feel smaller.

“Be careful with that,” he said quietly. “People who try too hard often have something to hide.”

The words hit her like a physical blow.

Her lips parted, but no explanation came out—not that he gave her time to speak.

“Dismissed,” he said.

Ava left feeling like he had peeled back a layer of her soul and accused her of something she didn’t understand. For the rest of the day, his voice replayed in her head.

People who try too hard often have something to hide.

Why would he say that?

Why did it sound like he meant her—specifically her?

By mid‑afternoon, she needed a breath of air, or more accurately, she needed to escape the echo of his voice inside her head.

She gathered a stack of signed documents, dropped them neatly onto his desk (after knocking this time), and slipped out of the building for lunch.

The city was buzzing as usual, cars honking, people talking, street vendors calling out their prices. Life was moving normally.

But Ava… froze.

A car, dark and sleek, was parked across the street, not directly in front, but close enough that she couldn’t ignore it. The glass was heavily tinted; she couldn’t see inside. Yet something about its stillness, the way it sat like a sentinel, sent a shiver down her spine. Why is it just sitting there? She thought. Her pulse quickened, though she told herself it was probably nothing; maybe someone was waiting for an appointment nearby.

But instinct told her otherwise.

Ava slowed her pace, her eyes unconsciously flicking toward the vehicle with each step.

There was a sense of being watched, a weight pressing down on her that made her stomach knot. She considered turning back, retreating to the safety of the office, yet the thought of abandoning her brief lunch break frustrated her.

Minutes later, lunch forgotten, Ava returned to the office, keeping one eye on the street. She entered the building quietly, the soft hum of the air conditioning greeting her like a familiar friend. She felt the tension in her shoulders slowly ease, but the memory of the car lingered, an uneasy echo at the back of her mind.

The rest of the day felt heavier. Time dragged as her thoughts tangled around Sebastian’s words, the strange car, and the uneasy fog settling in her chest.

By the time she left the office, dusk had already swallowed the city. Streetlights flickered awake, painting long shadows across the pavement.

Ava walked faster than usual, her heartbeat refusing to settle. The air tasted strange—still, cold, watchful.

Then she heard it.

A step.

Soft, but synchronized with hers.

She turned...and her breath caught.

A figure trailed her from a distance. Not close enough to confront. Not far enough to ignore. Just… there. Moving when she moved. Slowing when she slowed.

Her pulse thundered.

She tightened her grip on her bag and picked up her pace.

So did the figure.

The quiet street suddenly felt endless, her shadows stretching too long, too close.

Someone was following her.

And she wasn’t imagining it anymore.