The brief silence wasn't truly empty. It was as if the world had been put on pause, all the board members' breaths held in a collective intake, solidifying into an invisible pressure. Every click of my high heels on the marble floor rang out like war drums—no, more like the Grim Reaper's ticking clock, each strike landing precisely on a heart, the rhythm charged with my deliberate defiance. My white shirt, impeccably tailored, was meant to project professionalism and restraint, but it was tightly bound by a pitch-black leather vest, sculpting my waist into a sharp line and loudly proclaiming my purpose today. This wasn't ordinary business attire; it was my armor, and my declaration of war against Damian Thorne, against this entire empire. Old Mr. Davis almost choked on his own saliva, gasping like an old, failing bellows; young Mr. Chen's jaw hung open as if dislocated, his eyes filled with a bewildered stupor. But none of this mattered. What mattered was his gaze. Across the polished mahogany table, Damian Thorne, the man who controlled everything in the company I served, fixed his gaze on me intensely, almost ravenously. His usual cold, impeccable mask now fractured, inch by agonizing inch, revealing a flicker of raw shock, followed by an unbridled possessiveness, even a predatory hunger, like an enraged beast. A chill, mixed with a surge of exhilaration, shot down my spine, igniting a fire in my already icy veins. I had not only brought this report; I had brought the deepest, most damning secret we had forged between us, the darkest truth unspoken. Now, I was no longer just his shadow, his compliant assistant, but the CEO's most guarded secret, laid bare for all to see. How would he react? Would he shred this agreement to pieces, or would he devour me whole, in the glaring spotlight, initiating a furious, intimate battle, played out for all to witness?