The elevator ride was a slow, agonizing torture.

Roxanne tightly clasped her hands together in front of her, her knuckles turning white as she watched the digital floor numbers ascend on the sleek panel. The soft, mechanical hum of the elevator did nothing to soothe the racing thoughts hammering against her skull.

Why her? What was the truth behind his hidden obsession?

DING.

The elevator bell echoed through the shaft as the doors slid open to reveal the exclusive, carpeted expanse of the ninth floor. The air up here smelled different, expensive, filtered, and heavily laced with the scent of rich mahogany and old money.

Roxanne drew a stabilizing breath and stepped out, the rhythmic click of her heels against the polished marble floor the only sound breaking the silence. She walked straight toward the towering double doors at the end of the corridor, the only executive suite on the entire floor.

Just as she closed the final distance, one of the heavy doors swung open and Christian stepped out.

Roxanne’s steps faltered instantly, her breath catching in her throat. Her husband’s face was an absolute mask of defeat, his skin pale and his posture completely deflated, looking exactly like a scolded child who had just been torn apart by a master predator.

He lifted his head blindly, and the moment his eyes landed on her, they widened in panicked disbelief. He scrambled toward her, his polished shoes skidding slightly on the marble.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice a low hiss as his eyes darted around the empty corridor. "You can’t just show up at my workplace, Roxy!"

Before she could even open her mouth to reply, Christian’s fingers clamped tightly around her wrist, pulling her to the side of a structural pillar. "Why the hell are you on the ninth floor?" he whispered furiously, his breath hot against her face. "This isn’t my department. You can’t be up here. It’s restricted!"

"I know, Christian. I—"

"You need to turn back around and get into that elevator right now," he cut her off, absolute terror bleeding through his tightly wound exterior. "No one, literally no one, sets foot on this floor without a personal invitation from Richard himself."

Roxanne parted her lips to speak, but the sheer weight of Christian’s narcissism was unstoppable. He leaned in closer, his brows knotting into a deeply suspicious, ugly scowl. "I swear to god, Roxy. I hope you aren’t here to tell Richard that I let you write a few auxiliary paragraphs for my projects."

Roxanne pressed her lips into a thin, icy line. The blinding irony of his paranoia was almost comical. She deliberately went still, letting her wrist hang loosely in his grip, choosing to just let him dig his own corporate grave.

"Because if you whisper a single word about that to management," Christian threatened, his voice trembling with a desperate, pathetic malice, "I will completely deny it. I’ll tell him you’re an unstable, bitter housewife who stole private, proprietary company documents out of spite. Do you hear me?"

Roxanne looked down at his hand on her skin, then lifted her calm, unflinching gaze to meet his frantic eyes. "Are you done, Christian?"

Christian’s jaw slacked slightly, his furious frown fracturing as his tight grip on her wrist unconsciously loosened.

Roxanne slowly shook her head, looking at the man she had spent years trying to please with a profound sense of pity. "It must be completely exhausting to live a life where you genuinely believe every single universe revolves around you," she murmured softly. "You really should learn to relax, Chris. Before you give yourself a stroke."

Christian’s face flushed a violent crimson. "Then answer the damn question! Why are you standing outside my CEO’s office?"

Roxanne lifted her chin. "Because Richard invited me," she stated clearly, watching the words hit him like a physical blow.

Christian’s eyes stretched wide, the air completely leaving his lungs.

Roxanne stepped closer, her voice dropping into a whisper. "Maybe he finally sees something in me that you’ve spent our entire marriage completely blind to."

"What the hell does that—?"

The heavy mahogany door behind them clicked open, the sound cutting through the corridor like a gunshot.

Richard stood framed in the threshold. He looked towering and utterly devastating in the morning light, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned just slightly at the collar. His piercing gaze immediately dropped to Christian’s fingers around Roxanne’s wrist.

A dangerous hardness settled over Richard’s jawline, the temperature in the hallway instantly dropping into a freezing chill. Slowly, he lifted his heavy gaze to lock directly onto Roxanne’s eyes.

"Come in," he commanded, his deep, gravelly baritone brooking absolutely zero room for argument.

Roxanne didn’t hesitate. She reached down, peeled Christian’s limp, trembling fingers off her skin, and stepped away from him. Christian’s brows pulled into a paralyzed, horrified scowl as he watched his wife walk out of his control.

Richard stepped aside, holding the door open for her. Roxanne swept past him into the luxurious suite without sparing her husband a single parting glance.

Then the door shut behind them, sealing her inside his world.

—

Outside in the corridor, Christian stood frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs in a state of absolute shock. He stared at the blank wood of the door, his mind spinning in circles as he tried to comprehend why the most powerful man in the city wanted to see his wife behind closed doors.

Slowly, a sickening dread began to pool in his stomach. He looked at the door one last time, turned on his heel, and walked stiffly toward the elevators.

—

Inside the sprawling executive suite, the atmosphere was thick with an electric, suffocating tension.

Roxanne stood rooted to the plush carpet, her pulse racing frantically as she watched Richard lock the door and turn around. Her heart hammered against her ribs, every nerve in her body bracing for him to cross the room, to trap her against the wall, to resume the wicked heat of the ladies’ room.

But he didn’t.

Richard simply glided past her, his massive frame radiating a cold, professional authority as he walked right around her toward his massive glass desk. A sudden, unexpected wave of disappointment flooded her veins, a treacherous heat flaring in her core at his sudden distance, but she forced her expression to remain perfectly calm.

He didn’t sit. He stood behind his desk, glancing down at his platinum watch. "You are three minutes early."

Roxanne swallowed hard against the dry lump in her throat, refusing to let him see how much his presence unraveled her. She walked forward and sat in the plush leather chair opposite him, her eyes locking onto his.

"That’s because I don’t intend on leaving this floor without the truth, Richard."

Richard studied her for a long moment, something dark and deeply intrigued flickering in the depths of his eyes. Without a word, he pulled open his mahogany desk drawer, retrieved a thick, matte-black file, and slid it across the glass table.

Roxanne’s gaze dropped to the document. The moment he flipped it open to reveal the typed pages inside, her entire body went rigid.

"Three years ago, Christian submitted this critical corporate proposal to retain our highest-paying international clients," Richard said, his voice smooth.

Roxanne froze, a sudden chill running down her spine. She remembered that week with terrifying clarity, remembered the unhinged way Christian had locked himself in their home office, anxiously pacing, practically sweating through his clothes as he pressured and begged her to draft the strategy for him.

"The first half of this proposal was completely average," Richard continued, leaning his elbows on the desk as he leaned forward. "It was standard. But the second half—" he paused, his eyes burning into hers. "It was absolute genius. Flawless execution. A completely different syntax, a brilliant writing style, and a strategic mind that I doubt Christian possesses."

Roxanne’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into the leather armrests.

"At first I assumed Christian had hired an outside consultant. Then another report crossed my desk. Then another," Richard murmured.

Roxanne swallowed hard, the sheer magnitude of his confession making her head spin. Christian had never once called her brilliant. Not once. Yet the most powerful man in the city had spent three years noticing what her husband couldn’t see. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"I started watching," Richard confessed, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second before snapping back to her eyes. "Every proposal that rescued a failing account. Every strategy that reversed a declining quarter. Every project that earned Christian another promotion. They all carried the exact same secret fingerprint. Yours, Roxanne."

Roxanne’s heart was hammering so loudly she was certain he could hear it across the table. "So, that’s why you wanted me?"

Richard leaned back, a slow, dangerously possessive smile curving his lips. "No," he replied softly, the word hanging heavy in the air between them. "That’s when I started looking for you.