The CEO Unwritten Rule

005 | The Ghost In The Pages

​Gisel stayed rooted to the spot, her breath held tight in her lungs. The cool night air suddenly felt biting. She can never know why I really picked her. The words echoed in her mind, turning her victory at the gala into ash. She wasn't a random liability; she was a calculated choice.

​She waited until Adrian and Candra disappeared back into the ballroom before she dared to move. Her heart was hammering against her ribs not with fear this time, but with a burning need for the truth.

​"A ghost," she whispered to herself. "He’s looking for a ghost."

​The next morning, the mansion felt different. The gold-leafed ceilings and marble floors no longer felt like a cage; they felt like a puzzle. Adrian had left for the office at dawn, leaving Gisel alone with her thoughts and a mansion full of secrets.

​She skipped breakfast, instead wandering toward the library. If Adrian had been panicked about a journal, and it wasn't in his forbidden third-floor study, it had to be somewhere he felt was "safe" but accessible.

​She spent hours pulling books from shelves, her fingers dusty and her mind racing. She was about to give up when she noticed a slight misalignment in the mahogany paneling behind the history section. It wasn't a secret door this wasn't a movie but it was a hidden compartment, the kind used for floor safes.

​She pressed against the wood. It clicked.

​Inside wasn't a safe, but a small, velvet-lined box. And inside that box sat the weathered leather journal.

​Gisel’s hands shook as she pulled it out. This wasn't her journal. The leather was older, the edges frayed. She opened the first page, and her breath hitched.

​It was filled with sketches. Sketches of the city, of the Grand Atrium Hotel, of the very fountain she had stood by last night. But it was the style that stopped her heart. It was raw, charcoal-heavy, and whimsical almost identical to her own.

​She flipped to the back of the book. There, tucked into a pocket, was a photograph.

​It was a woman. She was standing in a sunlit garden, laughing at the camera. She wore a paint-stained cardigan and had a messy bun that looked exactly like Gisel’s. But it wasn't Gisel. The photo was dated fifteen years ago.

​"Looking for something?"

​The voice was like a whip crack. Gisel jumped, the journal slipping from her fingers and hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

​Adrian stood in the doorway. He wasn't the polished CEO today. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot, his coat hanging off one shoulder. He looked at the journal on the floor, then at Gisel. The silence that followed was deafening.

​"Who is she, Adrian?" Gisel asked, her voice trembling. She didn't back away. "Who is the woman who looks just like me? The one who draws just like me?"

​Adrian walked into the room, his footsteps slow and heavy. He picked up the journal, his fingers stroking the leather with a tenderness Gisel had never seen.

​"Her name was Elena," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "She was my mother’s sister. The 'black sheep' of the Dirgantara family. An artist who walked away from the billions to live in a studio that smelled of coffee and turpentine."

​Gisel felt a lump in her throat. "And?"

​"And she died before she could show me that there was more to life than glass and steel," Adrian said, finally looking up. His eyes weren't icy anymore; they were filled with a raw, ancient grief. "My grandmother hated her. She erased her from every portrait, every record. She wants me to be a machine, Gisel. She wants me to be the Ice King."

​"So you found someone who looked like her," Gisel realized, the pieces clicking into place. "You didn't pick me because of a vase. You picked me because when my grandmother sees me, she sees the woman she couldn't break. You’re using me to haunt her."

​Adrian didn't deny it. He took a step closer, the journal clutched against his chest. "I needed a shield. I didn't expect you to be so... much like her. Not just the face, but the fire."

​Gisel felt a tear prick her eye, but she brushed it away angrily. "So this whole thing the contract, the 100 days it’s just a ghost story for you? I’m just a ghost?"

​"No," Adrian said, his hand reaching out instinctively, stopping just before he touched her cheek. "That’s the problem, Gisel. You’re starting to feel very, very real. And that wasn't part of the plan."

​Before Gisel could respond, the sound of a cane tapping against the marble echoed from the hallway. Madam Sofia was approaching.

​Adrian’s face instantly snapped back into its frozen mask. He shoved the journal into Gisel’s hands and pushed her toward the window.

​"Hide it," he hissed. "Now."

​As Madam Sofia entered the room, Adrian turned to her with a perfect, empty smile. But underneath the table, out of his grandmother’s sight, his hand found Gisel’s. His grip was tight, desperate and for the first time, his skin felt burning hot.