At Stellar Corporations, people began to notice that Liam Adrien was… off.
Meetings were canceled with no explanation. Entire schedules cleared with a single flat instruction from his assistant. When asked why, Liam would only say, "Reschedule," in a tone that ended the conversation before it began.
During presentations, Liam barely looked at the screens anymore. Charts changed. Models updated. Andrew explained projections with his usual confidence, but Liam's attention drifted past him every time, settling somewhere else.
On Oliver. Or maybe empty space.
It wasn't subtle. Not to the room.
Liam's gaze lingered too long, followed Oliver when he moved, paused when Oliver spoke, sharpened when Oliver challenged something. And when Oliver did challenge a security decision, carefully worded and technically sound, Liam didn't argue.
He approved it immediately. Some people wondered if the CEO and the researcher were former acquaintances. Some guessed the CEO was drawn to the genius researcher. Of course everyone admired Oliver intelligence in dealing with security system problems.
"Proceed," Liam said, eyes still on Oliver.
Andrew blinked. A few executives exchanged glances. Normally, Liam dissected proposals like a surgeon. Today, he waved them through, as long as they came from Oliver.
Andrew, on the other hand, rarely got acknowledgment. His comments went unanswered. His questions met silence. It wasn't hostile. It was worse. It was absence.
People wondered.
During one meeting, the tension grew thick enough to taste. Oliver stood near the glass board, explaining an encryption adjustment. Liam leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes fixed on Oliver like he was watching something fragile walk too close to an edge.
Someone cleared their throat.
Liam didn't notice.
The door opened.
Every spine straightened.
Mrs Adrien entered the conference room with the quiet authority of someone who had never needed to announce herself. Conversations died instantly. Chairs shifted. Heads bowed in respect.
"Good afternoon," she said calmly.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," the room echoed.
At first, her attention skimmed the room. Faces, posture, order. Then her eyes drifted, unhurried.
Oliver noticed her immediately.
His hand paused mid-gesture. Not in fear. In recognition. Something cold slid down his spine. He kept his expression neutral, finished his sentence, and stepped back.
Mrs Adrien's gaze passed over him without stopping.
Or so it seemed.
The meeting wrapped quickly after that. No one dared prolong it. Liam rose, smoothing his jacket.
"Excuse us," he said to the room. "We'll continue later."
He led his mother out without looking back.
Inside his office, floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city like a living map. Mrs Adrien moved toward them, hands folded neatly, eyes scanning the streets below.
"You've been busy," she said lightly.
Liam stood behind his desk. "Everything is under control."
"I'm sure," she replied. "I only came to see how things were progressing. And to inform you of something."
He waited.
"You and Lorette will be traveling together in a few weeks," Mrs Adrien said. "A business trip. International partners. It's time you two start appearing… aligned."
Liam's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"I wasn't informed."
"You are now," she said, not unkindly.
Silence stretched.
Then Mrs Adrien's attention shifted downward.
Below, near the company entrance, someone stepped out into the open air. Slim figure. Neutral clothes. A familiar way of moving, careful but purposeful. The person raised a hand, hailed a taxi.
Mrs Adrien frowned faintly.
"That person looks familiar…" she murmured. "Is he a new employee?"
Liam followed her gaze too late. The taxi was already pulling away. But he already guessed whom she saw.
"Do you recognize them?" he asked, voice even.
"I'm not sure," she said slowly. "There's something about the way he walks. I've seen him before. Somewhere important."
She turned away from the window, dismissing the thought.
Liam said nothing.
But something inside him tightened, sharp and aching, as if a string had been pulled too far without snapping.
Down on the street, the taxi disappeared into traffic.
The celebration came wrapped in glass and gold.
Stellar Corporations had reserved the entire top floor of a five-star bar, the kind that floated above the city like a private constellation. Soft amber lights washed over polished floors. Music hummed low and expensive. Servers moved like practiced shadows, trays balanced with ease.
Oliver arrived with the Greyhaven Security Agency team.
He didn't belong in places like this. Not really. He stood a little straighter than usual, suit neat but simple, hands tucked into his pockets when no one was speaking to him. He smiled when spoken to. Listened more than he talked. Nodded when people praised the collaboration, when they told him he was brilliant, precise, impressive.
He absorbed it all quietly, like rain against glass.
The bar filled quickly. Laughter rose. Glasses clinked. Someone tried to pull Oliver into a discussion about future projects. He answered politely, carefully, always keeping one step of distance between himself and the noise.
Then the doors opened again.
The air shifted.
Liam walked in.
He wore black, tailored and sharp, the fabric fitting him like it had been cut with intention rather than measurement. His shirt was dark, collar open just enough to suggest ease without softness. No tie. A watch at his wrist that caught the light when he moved. He looked… untouchable.
And beside him was Lorette.
Oliver's heart skipped so hard it felt like it stumbled.
She wore a long, soft green gown that flowed when she walked, the color deep and elegant, clinging lightly at her waist before falling free. A delicate but unmistakably expensive necklace rested against her collarbone. Her hair framed her face perfectly. She looked composed, radiant, complete.
They looked like a picture people would frame.
The kind of couple that made sense at first glance.
Oliver looked away first.
Across the room, someone from Stellar raised a glass and called for attention. A brief speech followed. Words about partnership, innovation, trust. Praises for Greyhaven Security. Applause rippled through the room.
Liam didn't clap much.
Oliver didn't either.
Cheers followed the speech. Glasses were raised again. Someone pressed a drink into Oliver's hand. He hesitated, then accepted it. Another came. Then another. He didn't drink much, but refusing felt harder than swallowing.
The alcohol warmed his throat and made his chest feel strangely hollow.
Lorette noticed Oliver almost immediately.
Her heart faltered, just a little.
She hadn't been around the company for days. She'd known things were happening. She just hadn't expected this. Not him. Not here. Dressed like that. Standing so calmly among people who didn't know what he had once been to Liam.
She glanced at Liam.
His face gave her nothing.
No tension. No flicker. No acknowledgment.
She didn't ask. She smiled when spoken to. Accepted compliments. Let her hand rest lightly at her side, not touching him, not reaching. But every few moments, her eyes returned to Liam, searching for something that never surfaced.
The party continued.
People danced in small groups. Others gathered near the bar, laughter growing louder as the night stretched on. Someone spilled a drink and apologized too much. Someone else told a story that made no sense but everyone laughed anyway.
Oliver laughed too.
Not with his eyes.
When the night thinned and conversations began to repeat themselves, Lorette stood.
"I'm heading out," she said softly.
Liam nodded once.
That was all.
She hesitated, color blooming faintly on her cheeks. He had brought her here. Leaving alone meant calling a taxi, standing outside, waiting. She thought he might offer. Hope flickered and dimmed.
He didn't turn.
Didn't move.
Didn't look.
After a moment, she looked at him. Then she picked up her clutch and walked away.
Liam didn't follow her with his eyes.
He was watching Oliver.
Watching the way Oliver smiled at everyone else but him. The way he tilted his head when listening. The way he stood like none of this mattered.
Anger curled slow and sharp in Liam's chest.
Did he really mean it back then? That it was all a mistake. That it was nothing.
Did he really forget everything?
Their eyes met suddenly.
Just for a second.
Oliver looked away first this time.
Lorette left.
The space beside Liam felt colder.
Now his gaze stayed on Oliver, unhidden, heavy. Oliver felt it like heat against his skin. He excused himself quickly, murmuring something about rest. His colleagues nodded, distracted, already halfway into another conversation.
Outside, the night air hit him hard.
He stood by the roadside, breathing in, grounding himself. Lights blurred. The city hummed. He counted his breaths.
Then he heard his name.
"Oliver."
He turned.
Liam stood there, upright, elegant, the city lights catching in his eyes. Close enough now that there was no crowd between them. No music. No glasses. Just the space they had never learned how to fill.
"Let me take you home."