Lillian told herself she was only going to retrieve the pending merger file.
That was the excuse.
Professional.
Reasonable.
Safe.
She ignored the fact that she could have asked for it by email.
Ignored the fact that she'd never driven here after nine at night before.
Ignored the truth — that four days of silence had unsettled her more than she expected.
The iron gates came into view.
She entered the code.
They opened.
Of course they did.
She drove slowly up the long driveway, headlights cutting through the winter dark.
The mansion stood ahead — all sharp glass and steel, lit softly from within.
Cold.
Modern.
Beautiful.
And isolating.
She stepped out, her ankle only faintly sore now.
Unlocked the front door with the key he had given her months ago for work-related errands.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Mr. Wolfe?" she called softly.
No answer.
She closed the door behind her.
The air inside felt still.
Heavy.
She stepped further in.
The living area was dimly lit. A single lamp on near the far wall.
His phone sat on the kitchen counter.
That wasn't like him.
She moved cautiously toward the staircase.
"Mr. Wolfe?"
That's when she heard it.
A sound.
Faint.
Strained.
Not from downstairs.
From above.
Her stomach tightened.
She climbed the floating staircase slowly.
The hallway upstairs was darker.
One door at the end stood slightly open.
And the sound came from there.
Not loud.
But unmistakable.
A broken breath.
A sharp inhale.
Like someone fighting something invisible.
Her heart started pounding.
She stepped closer.
The bedroom was expansive, minimalist like the rest of the house.
And there he was.
Sebastian Wolfe.
Asleep.
But not peacefully.
He was on his back, sheets twisted slightly in his hands. His jaw clenched. His breathing uneven.
"No," he muttered faintly.
Her breath caught.
She had never seen him like this.
Never imagined he could look anything other than controlled.
Another sharp breath escaped him.
His brow furrowed deeply.
And then—
"Stop."
The word came strained.
Low.
Not commanding.
Pained.
Something in her chest twisted.
She stepped inside before she could think better of it.
"Mr. Wolfe?" she said quietly.
He didn't wake.
His breathing grew more uneven.
Like he was trapped somewhere.
"Seb—." She stopped herself.
"Mr. Wolfe," she tried again, slightly firmer.
His hand clenched into the sheets.
A quiet, almost broken sound left him.
She moved closer to the bed.
This was wrong.
Invasive.
But leaving felt worse.
She reached out hesitantly and touched his shoulder lightly.
"Mr. Wolfe."
He reacted instantly.
His hand shot up, gripping her wrist.
Hard.
His eyes snapped open.
Wild.
Unfocused.
For a split second, he didn't see her.
He saw something else.
Someone else.
She froze.
"It's me," she said quickly, steady despite her racing heart. "It's Miss Parker."
His grip loosened slightly.
His breathing was still uneven.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Reality returning.
"Miss… Parker?"
His voice was rough.
Disoriented.
"Yes."
Silence.
His hand dropped from her wrist immediately, as if realizing what he'd done.
He sat up abruptly, turning slightly away from her.
Composure snapping back into place piece by piece.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
The control was returning.
But it wasn't fully there yet.
"I came to retrieve a file," she said quietly.
"At this hour?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"You should not be in my bedroom."
"I knocked."
"You did not."
She hesitated. "I called for you."
His jaw tightened.
He ran a hand through his hair, breathing finally steadying.
"You saw nothing," he said evenly.
She didn't answer.
Because that wasn't true.
She had seen enough.
"You were having a nightmare," she said softly.
"I do not have nightmares."
"You just did."
Silence.
Thick.
Uncomfortable.
He stood from the bed, creating distance.
"Leave," he said calmly.
She didn't move.
"Mr. Wolfe."
His back stiffened.
"That is not a request."
"Why didn't you come back to work?"
His shoulders went still.
"That is unrelated."
"No, it's not."
He turned slowly to face her.
The mask was almost fully back in place.
But his eyes—
They were tired.
"You are crossing a line."
"Then tell me to stop."
"I am."
"Not convincingly."
A flicker of something passed through his gaze.
Frustration.
Or maybe something else.
"You saw me in a moment that does not concern you," he said.
"You punched someone because he mentioned your mother."
His jaw tightened sharply.
"That subject is closed."
"You pushed me."
His breath paused.
"For that, I apologize."
"You already did."
"Then it is settled."
"No, it's not."
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"What exactly are you seeking, Miss Parker?"
The question hit harder than she expected.
"I don't know," she admitted quietly.
Silence fell again.
He looked at her differently then.
Not cold.
Not warm.
Assessing.
"You should not involve yourself in matters that complicate your position," he said.
"I drove here because you disappeared."
"I informed the company of my absence."
"You ran."
His expression hardened slightly.
"I do not run."
"You did."
Another silence.
Then, quietly—
"Distance was necessary."
"For who?"
He didn't answer.
That answer was obvious.
For her.
She stepped slightly closer.
"You don't get to decide that for me."
His breathing shifted subtly again.
"You believe proximity to someone like me is harmless?"
The question lingered.
Dangerous.
"I think pretending you're unaffected is more harmful," she said.
That landed.
He held her gaze.
Longer than he should have.
"You should return home," he said finally.
His voice was calm again.
Controlled.
Back behind the wall.
She nodded slowly.
"Are you coming back Monday?"
"Yes."
"Promise?"
He didn't hesitate this time.
"Yes."
That was enough.
She turned toward the door.
But paused.
Without looking back, she said quietly—
"You don't have to pretend you're not human."
The room went still.
When she left, he remained standing there.
In the dim light.
Alone.
His hand flexed slightly where he had grabbed her wrist.
She had seen him.
Not the CEO.
Not the controlled force.
But the fracture beneath it.
And for the first time in years—
That terrified him more than any insult ever could.