The Liebert's Protocol

The Watcher in the dark

The door to my suite slammed shut, but the wood felt thin and useless against the humiliation burning in my chest. I kicked off the Louboutins—four inches of torture that had finally won. I didn't care where they landed. I collapsed onto the edge of the silk-covered bed, my breath coming in jagged, ugly hitches.

I thought I was alone. I thought I could finally let the "CEO" mask shatter.

"You’re late for your breakdown, Miss Liebert."

I flinched, my heart leaping into my throat. Andrew was leaning against the heavy velvet curtains of the window, his arms crossed over his charcoal blazer. He hadn't even turned the lights on. He was just a silhouette in the shadows, watching me crumble.

"Get out," I choked out, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, smearing the expensive concealer. "I told you, I’m tired. Get out!"

"Tired?" Andrew stepped forward into the pale light of the moon. His face was a mask of cold, sharp fury. "You aren't tired. You’re pathetic. You just walked out on a billion-dollar acquisition because you couldn't keep your mind off a two-bit architect in Beijing who didn't even have the decency to hide his mistress."

The air left the room. My skin went ice-cold. "How do you..."

"How do I know?" Andrew let out a short, harsh laugh that sounded like snapping bone. "You think your grandfather was the only one with a lens on your life? I was the one who pulled the logs. I was the one who saw you crying into your wine while Xi Chan was in the next room with a girl he called his 'sister.' I saw every pathetic minute of it."

I felt like he had slapped me. "You... you watched me? You watched me get my heart broken and you said nothing?"

"I watched a 'loose lady' forget her name and her legacy for a lie," he spat, closing the distance between us until he was towering over me. "I watched the Liebert heiress act like a desperate servant for a man who didn't want her. And then you have the nerve to come back here and throw a tantrum over crepes? You aren't mourning a love, Marie. You’re mourning your own stupidity."

The tears were coming fast now, hot and thick. It wasn't just the heartbreak anymore. it was the realization that my shame was a recorded file in his pocket. He was taking every ounce of my pain and using it to mock me.

"I hate you," I whispered, my voice trembling with a raw, jagged rage. "I hate both of you."

"Good. Hate is a much more useful emotion for a CEO than self-pity," Andrew said, his voice dropping to a low, clinical baritone. He didn't offer a tissue. He didn't offer a hand. He just looked down at me like I was a broken machine that needed fixing.

He turned toward the door, pausing only when his hand hit the brass handle.

"Wash your face, Miss Liebert. And don't bother getting back into that bed." He glanced at his watch. "It’s nearly midnight. I’ll be at your door at 5:00 AM. If you aren't dressed, ready, and acting like a woman who deserves that last name, I will drag you to the office in your pajamas. We have a company to save, and I’m done waiting for you to finish crying over a ghost."

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound final and cold.

I fell back against the pillows, a sob finally breaking out of my chest. He knew. He had seen it all, and he didn't care. He was my shadow, but he wasn't there to protect me. He was there to ensure that Marie Liebert died, and the Protocol survived.