Outside Riley's office…
The doors slid shut behind them with a muted hiss.
Stephanie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her shoulders finally relaxed, and she pressed a hand lightly against her chest as if checking whether her heart was still behaving normally.
Ethan noticed.
"You did better than you think," he said calmly as they walked down the corridor.
Stephanie let out a small, embarrassed laugh.
"I'm not sure about that. I think I answered exactly zero of his questions correctly."
Ethan adjusted his glasses. "That's normal. He terrifies most people who actually know what they're doing."
That helped. A little.
They walked in silence for a few steps before Ethan spoke again.
"So," he said, glancing at her, "what kind of work do you usually do?"
Stephanie hesitated.
Then she shrugged, as if downplaying it would make it less heavy.
"Whatever pays," she said. "Mainly, I waitress in the mornings, help out at a local tailoring shop in the afternoons, and do night shifts at a convenience store three times a week." She paused, then added quietly, "I used to do more after my mum got involved with loan sharks."
Her voice dipped near the end.
Ethan slowed his steps.
"That's… a lot," he said.
Stephanie smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"It has to be. Rent, the loans we took, food… it adds up faster than you think."
She laughed softly, almost apologetically.
"Sorry. That sounded depressing."
"It sounded responsible," Ethan corrected as they reached the elevator. At that moment, Ethan pressed the call button, then turned to face her fully.
"Miss Rogers," he said professionally, yet with unmistakable sincerity, "you and your mother are no longer alone in this."
Stephanie looked up at him.
"As long as you're under Riley Styles' protection," Ethan continued, "no one will touch either of you. That's not a promise I make lightly."
Her throat tightened.
"I… thank you," she said softly.
The elevator arrived with a quiet ding.
Inside, Ethan pulled out a sleek black tablet and handed it to her.
"This contains the full operational guide for the Head of Tactical Design," he said.
"Structure, responsibilities, workflows, and the chain of command. You'll also find simplified explanations where needed."
Stephanie accepted it like it was something precious.
Her eyes lit up with determination.
"I'll study everything," she said quickly. "I won't mess this up."
Ethan gave a small, approving nod.
"I believe you. You will start work next week Monday so make everyday from this moment count."
"I will."
As the elevator descended, Stephanie hugged the tablet to her chest — not just as a job, but as something else entirely.
A chance.
A lifeline.
And somewhere, deep inside the building they were leaving behind, Riley Styles sat alone — unaware that the decision he'd just made was already beginning to change more than one life.
After a while, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
Stephanie stepped out into the lower executive level, the tablet still clutched tightly to her chest. The space was wider here — open walkways, polished steel railings, and glass walls revealing sections of the massive production floor below.
Before she could take more than a few steps, a man in a dark suit approached her.
He moved with disciplined precision.
"Miss Rogers," he said calmly. "I'm assigned to escort you home."
She recognized him immediately — one of the men who had accompanied her earlier. One of Riley Styles' personal bodyguards.
Stephanie hesitated for only a second before nodding.
"…Okay."
They walked together toward the exit.
As they passed through the main atrium, Stephanie slowed without realizing it.
Below her, the heart of Styles Industries unfolded — massive assembly lines, controlled robotic arms welding and forging components, engineers moving with practiced coordination, and security personnel stationed at every level.
It was overwhelming.
'This is… his world', she thought.
A world built from steel, strategy, and quiet power.
She didn't notice the woman watching her.
From behind a workstation on the upper floor, Mara's fingers stilled on her keyboard. Her eyes followed Stephanie with sharp, jealous gaze.
'Who those she think she is to be escorted to Mr. Styles private office?', she thought.
A girl escorted by personal guards.
A girl who walked out of Riley Styles' private office.
Mara's gritted her teeth in anger.
Unbelievable.
Outside, the air felt lighter.
The bodyguard led Stephanie toward a sleek black car already waiting near the private lot. As she approached, she glanced back one last time at the towering structure of Styles Industries.
It felt unreal — like she'd stepped into someone else's life and hadn't yet woken up.
As she reached for the door handle—
She didn't see the man standing several blocks away.
Partially hidden by the shadow of a half-finished building, a figure stood still, eyes fixed on her. A hood pulled low. A phone raised briefly.
Click.
A photo captured her image beside the car.
The figure lowered the device and turned away, disappearing into the flow of the city without a sound.
Stephanie slipped into the back seat, unaware.
The door closed.
The engine started.
The car pulled away into the heart of the city.
———
It was approaching night time and rainwater dripped from the edge of a broken awning as the man stepped into the shadows.
He raised his phone.
One message had already been sent — a single image.
Stephanie Rogers, stepping into a black car under armed escort.
The call connected after one ring.
"…It's her," the man said quietly.
A pause.
He glanced once more toward the road where the car had vanished.
"The girl in the photo," he continued. "I've confirmed it. Same face. Same name."
Another pause — longer this time.
His lips curled into something that wasn't a smile.
"Yes," he said. "You were right."
The line went dead.
The man slipped the phone into his pocket and disappeared into the night.
And far away, someone had just found what they'd been searching for.