The mansion was silent.
Too silent.
New York City glowed beyond the glass walls of Sebastian Wolfe's modern home, skyscrapers shining like distant stars. Traffic murmured somewhere far below.
Inside the house, only one room had light.
Sebastian's office.
The glass desk was covered in documents. A laptop glowed in the dim room. Several empty coffee cups sat nearby.
Sebastian leaned forward in his chair.
Tie loosened.
Top button of his shirt undone.
His eyes burned from staring at the screen for hours.
He hadn't stopped working since he arrived home.
Not once.
His fingers moved across the keyboard quickly.
Precise.
Controlled.
But the control was cracking.
A spreadsheet refused to cooperate. Numbers blurred together.
Sebastian rubbed his temple.
"Focus," he muttered.
He forced himself back to work.
Another document.
Another email.
Another problem.
His back suddenly twinged.
Sharp.
Right along the old injury that ran across his spine.
Sebastian inhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair.
The pain faded after a moment.
But the tension stayed.
He rolled his shoulders slowly and stared at the screen again.
Still more work.
Always more.
He reached for another document.
His hand knocked over a stack of papers instead.
They slid off the desk and scattered across the floor.
Sebastian froze.
For a moment he just stared at them.
Then he exhaled sharply and stood up.
"Unbelievable."
He bent down to gather the papers.
His back protested again.
The scar along his spine burned faintly beneath his shirt.
Sebastian clenched his jaw.
He finished picking them up and dropped them back onto the desk.
Then he stared at the laptop again.
The numbers blurred even more.
He blinked slowly.
His eyes felt heavy.
Too heavy.
His mind refused to focus.
Sebastian leaned back in the chair again and dragged a hand through his hair.
He looked around the empty office.
The silence pressed in.
Too quiet.
Too still.
And suddenly—
The pressure hit.
Deadlines.
Investors.
The company.
Every decision.
Every responsibility.
Every expectation.
All resting on him.
Sebastian exhaled slowly.
But the tight feeling in his chest didn't go away.
He stood abruptly and began pacing the office.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered.
He ran a hand over his face.
"You're fine."
But his hands weren't steady.
And he knew it.
He stopped pacing and stared at the desk again.
His phone sat beside the laptop.
For a long moment he looked at it.
Then he looked away.
No.
Absolutely not.
Sebastian Wolfe did not call people when he was overwhelmed.
He handled things.
Alone.
Always.
He returned to the desk and opened the laptop again.
The screen glowed.
The numbers still made no sense.
His hands hovered over the keyboard.
Then slowly lowered.
He closed the laptop.
The quiet sound echoed in the room.
Sebastian leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
For a moment he just sat there.
Breathing slowly.
Trying to calm the tight pressure in his chest.
It didn't work.
He opened his eyes again.
And looked at the phone.
His jaw tightened.
This was ridiculous.
He picked it up.
Then set it back down.
Then picked it up again.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
He exhaled slowly.
Then finally pressed the call button.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then a familiar voice answered.
"Hello?"
Lillian Parker sounded slightly surprised.
Sebastian didn't speak immediately.
He suddenly felt strangely unsure of what to say.
"Mr. Wolfe?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You're calling me at… midnight."
"I'm aware."
A pause.
"Is something wrong?"
Sebastian leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.
"Nothing is wrong."
"Then why are you calling?"
Another pause.
"I'm working."
Lillian sounded confused.
"You always are."
"Yes."
"And?"
Sebastian exhaled slowly.
"The work is… inefficient."
"Inefficient?" she repeated.
"Yes."
"That might be the strangest complaint I've ever heard from you."
Sebastian rubbed his temple.
"I can't focus."
Silence.
Then Lillian said carefully,
"Have you slept today?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Adequately."
"That's not a number."
Sebastian sighed.
"A few hours."
"A few hours isn't sleep."
"It's sufficient."
"No, it isn't."
Sebastian closed his eyes briefly.
"This conversation isn't productive."
"Then why did you call me?"
He hesitated.
Because suddenly the answer felt obvious.
And uncomfortable.
"I needed assistance."
Lillian went quiet.
Then she said softly,
"With work?"
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then her voice became more alert.
"Are you still at your house?"
"Yes."
"I'll come over."
Sebastian sat up immediately.
"That isn't necessary."
"You just said you needed assistance."
"With documents. Not physical presence."
"You're exhausted."
"I'm functional."
"You're calling your secretary at midnight because you can't focus."
"That is a reasonable managerial decision."
"No," she said bluntly. "That's a stress decision."
Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You're being difficult."
"I learned from the best."
Despite himself, Sebastian almost smiled.
Almost.
"Mr. Wolfe," Lillian said calmly. "I'm coming over."
"You don't even know where I live."
"I do."
That made him pause.
Of course she did.
She was his secretary.
She knew everything.
She was here a few days ago, but he simply forgot.
"You don't have to do that," he said.
"I know."
Another pause.
Then she added quietly,
"But I'm going to anyway."
Sebastian leaned back in the chair again.
For the first time all night, the tight pressure in his chest eased slightly.
"You're persistent," he muttered.
"Yes."
"That's usually irritating."
"I'm aware."
He looked around the empty office again.
The quiet house.
The endless work.
And for once…
The idea of someone else being there didn't feel unwelcome.
"Fine," he said.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Lillian replied.
The call ended.
Sebastian slowly set the phone down.
The room felt different now.
Still quiet.
But not as suffocating.
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes again.
Just for a moment.
Outside, the lights of New York City continued to glow through the glass walls.
And somewhere across the city, Lillian Parker was already on her way.