UNTIL HE NOTICED ME

When He Shouts, I Bleed in Silence

The clock had barely struck nine when Cassandra stood outside Sebastian’s office, files clutched tightly to her chest. The mahogany double doors loomed before her like the gates of a fortress she both dreaded and loved. Behind them sat the man who had unknowingly owned her heart for five years, the man who turned her world inside out with his presence—and shattered it just as easily with his words.

She knocked softly.

“Come in,” came the sharp, clipped voice.

Her breath hitched. Even through the thick wood, Sebastian’s tone carried the weight of storms brewing. She pushed the door open, heels clicking softly on the marble floor, and met his dark gaze. His eyes, sharp as obsidian, barely acknowledged her before dropping to the pile of documents in front of him.

“Where’s the proposal for Dominion Aero’s expansion?” he demanded without looking up.

Cassandra’s grip on the files tightened. “It’s right here, sir,” she said softly, crossing the room to place the documents on his desk.

Sebastian flipped through the pages, his jaw tightening. “This is incomplete.”

Her heart dropped. “Sir, I double-checked—”

“Double-checked?” He slammed the folder shut, the sound cracking like a whip in the air. Cassandra flinched despite herself. “Then maybe your definition of double-checking is different from mine. Fix it. Now.”

The words were like shards of ice, cold and unyielding.

Cassandra nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her composure. “Yes, sir.”

But Sebastian wasn’t done.

His temper, already frayed by a morning call with investors, snapped like brittle glass. “For God’s sake, Cassandra, I shouldn’t have to repeat myself every damn time. You’re my secretary, not a decorative piece standing around waiting for instructions!”

Each word struck like a slap, yet Cassandra stood still, shoulders squared, refusing to let him see her break. She had learned long ago that tears solved nothing.

“I’ll have it revised within the hour,” she murmured, her voice steady though her heart was splintering inside her chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration radiating from him in waves. For a moment, silence fell, thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint tick of the antique clock on the wall.

Sebastian finally leaned back, his gaze cutting to her. There was no softness there, no trace of gratitude for the five years she had stood by him, no hint of recognition for the countless nights she stayed late to make his life easier.

“Why are you still standing here? Go.”

She turned on her heel, each step measured, refusing to let him see the hurt blooming like bruises beneath her ribs.

But as soon as the door clicked shut behind her, her hands began to shake.

The hallway outside felt colder than usual. Cassandra clutched the folder tighter, nails biting into the leather cover. The sting of his words echoed in her ears, louder than they should have. She told herself it wasn’t personal. It never was with Sebastian. He was like this with everyone—cold, demanding, impossible to please.

But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true.

She had seen the way he smiled at Rosalind Navarro, the way his voice softened when Amara Santiagos draped herself across his arm. He had warmth. He just never gave it to her.

And that hurt more than his shouting ever could.

Back in his office, Sebastian sat motionless for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of his temper. He wasn’t proud of snapping at Cassandra—but pride had never stopped him before.

She was efficient. Reliable. Always there.

Maybe too there.

He shoved the thought aside. There was no room for guilt in his world. He had empires to run, women to charm, deals to close. His personal secretary’s feelings were the least of his concerns.

And yet… when he remembered the way she had looked at him—eyes wide, hurt buried beneath layers of professionalism—something twisted in his chest.

He scowled, pushing it away. Feelings were distractions. And Sebastian Cruz Valverde had no time for distractions.

Cassandra, meanwhile, locked herself in the small records room on the twentieth floor, the only place in the building where silence offered refuge. She sank against the shelves lined with dusty files, clutching the folder to her chest like it could hold her together.

Her throat burned, but she didn’t cry.

She never cried.

Because no one noticed when she did.

Not even him.

Especially not him.

When Cassandra returned an hour later with the revised proposal, Sebastian barely looked at her before snatching it from her hands.

“Leave it,” he said curtly. “You can go.”

She turned to leave, her face a perfect mask of composure.

But inside, she was bleeding.

And he never saw it.

Not then.

Not yet.