Chapter 3

On the morning of the meeting, I arrived earlier than usual.

Not because I was nervous, but because the process required me to go over the final round of supplementary materials in advance.

The night before, Legal had sent updated disclosures from two companies to my inbox. One had filled in the key missing terms. The other was still vague, with even more risk points than before.

I marked that file up again, then had my assistant reorder the questions for the meeting: cash flow first, then supply chain, then historical compliance, and only after that, the growth story.

I wanted everyone in the room to understand that this meeting was not a stage for a pitch deck. It was a gate review.

At 9:40, I left my office and headed for the elevator to go up to the conference floor.

Two colleagues were standing by the elevators. The moment they saw me, they stepped aside without a word.

I pressed the button. The doors opened almost immediately.

Someone was already inside, coming up from the lobby.

Evelyn.

She was dressed more formally than the night I saw her in the garage—a dark tailored suit, her hair neatly pinned back, small earrings that still caught the light.

Behind her stood two people, a man and a woman, both wearing visitor badges and holding binders and notebooks. Clearly her team.

The elevator wasn’t large. She stood in the center and saw me at once.

Her expression froze for a beat, then darkened fast.

I knew that look well. It wasn’t surprise. It was irritation, almost offense—what are you still doing here?

The doors slid shut, and the numbers began to climb.

Inside the closed space, there was only the faint hum of air and the low grind of cables. Evelyn didn’t speak right away. She stared at my reflection in the mirrored panel as if trying to decide whether I had followed her here on purpose. A few seconds later, she finally spoke, not loudly, but loud enough for the two people behind her to hear.

“You’re something else,” she said. “First the little garage incident yesterday, and now this? Your stalking habits haven’t changed.”

I kept my eyes on the floor numbers and said nothing.

Her tone turned colder. “Oliver, I already made myself clear. Don’t bring personal history into this. This meeting matters to my company. If you’re still trying to use the past to make yourself relevant, I’d suggest you get off now.”

I still didn’t look at her. I only shifted the folder in my hand slightly.

My silence seemed to needle her. “You work in this building now—I don’t care what your title is. Runner, project coordinator, even if you somehow made yourself a little manager, it doesn’t matter. Deals in this place aren’t changed because you say a few words. So don’t even think about barging in and making trouble. And don’t expect me to give you face the way I used to.”

The way she said it, the message underneath was obvious: this isn’t high school anymore, and you’re no longer useful to me.

The elevator kept rising. My phone buzzed once.

It was a message from my assistant: The client has arrived. The room is ready.

I replied, On my way, and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

Evelyn saw me glance down and send the message. She seized on it at once, her voice edged with mockery. “What, reporting to your boss? Or are you trying to have someone stop me at the door? Don’t be stupid. The person I’m here to meet is way out of your league.”

At that, I finally turned to look at her.

Not to argue—just to confirm what state she was in.

She was taking every uncertainty she felt and pinning it on me, because that was easier than admitting the real pressure came from her own situation.

She needed a clear enemy, and I had appeared at exactly the right time.

I looked away again and said evenly, “Keep your footing.”

Evelyn blinked, as if she hadn’t heard me correctly.

I added, “When you present later, don’t shake. It makes you look unprofessional.”

“Spare me.” Her voice went cold. “Who do you think you are? I don’t need your fake concern.”

Then she lowered her voice, enunciating every word. “I’m telling you for the last time—do not walk into that room. If you do, I will have security throw you out in front of everyone. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re after. You want to sabotage my deal with the CEO.”

I simply moved the folder to my left hand and braced my right hand lightly against the rail.

The elevator continued up. The number for the conference floor lit.

With a soft chime, the doors opened.

The hallway was carpeted in pale gray. There was a faint trace of diffuser scent in the air, abstract paintings on the walls, and the conference area at the far end. Evelyn stepped out first, as if finally escaping pressure. Her team followed.

I stepped out as well.

She had only taken two steps before she realized I had gotten off on the same floor. She stopped sharply, turned, and stared at me with a new edge of suspicion. “You’re getting off here too?”

I moved to go past her toward the conference area.

She immediately stepped in front of me and blocked the hallway. This time she stopped trying to keep her voice low. She raised it enough for anyone nearby to hear. “Oliver, what exactly are you trying to do? Do I really have to make this ugly? You do not belong here. Stop humiliating yourself.”

I stopped and looked at her standing there, shoulders squared.

One of the people behind her tried to tug her sleeve. “Evelyn, we should go in. We’re almost out of time.”

“Go in?” Evelyn let out a short, sharp laugh. “Didn’t you see? He’s trying to go in too. He’s here to make a scene.”

I looked at her and said, as calmly as before, “Move.”

“I’m not moving.” She was practically grinding the words out now. “Take one more step and I’ll call security.”

Her voice carried down the corridor. Doors of nearby meeting rooms cracked open; a few people looked out, then quickly withdrew.

I didn’t argue.

I raised my wrist and checked the time. Two minutes to start. More than enough, but I had no interest in wasting more on pointless pushing.

My gaze went past her to the digital display beside the conference room door. The project number and department were clearly listed there.

Evelyn caught the direction of my eyes. “What are you looking at? Leave right now, or I swear I’ll have someone—”

She didn’t get to finish.

The conference room door opened from the inside.

A man stepped out holding a stack of documents, company badge clipped to his chest.

It was the project lead who had been handling her company’s account this whole time.

Almost by instinct, Evelyn straightened, ready to go up to him, explain why she wasn’t inside yet, and no doubt complain about me while she was at it.

The project lead looked up.

His gaze passed right over Evelyn and landed on me.

He visibly paused, and his body had already shifted half a step in my direction before he even seemed aware of it.

Evelyn smiled toward me, as if she were waiting for him to have me removed.

Then, in the next second, the project lead greeted me.