Calder's morning meetings usually blurred into each other, but today he felt every minute.
People spoke, presented charts, argued softly about numbers and projections. He heard them, but not fully. A part of his mind stayed in the conversation he'd had with Senna Reeves.
She had walked into his office like she belonged in silence. She had spoken to him like he was human, not a headline. And she had said things no one else dared to say—not harshly, not carelessly, but with a calm truth that still echoed in his chest.
She saw the cracks.
He wasn't used to being seen.
"Mr. Voss?"
Calder blinked. His CFO, Richard Hale, was staring at him from across the conference table. The team had gone quiet. Someone had just finished presenting a line graph, and they were waiting for him to speak.
He cleared his throat lightly. "Continue."
Richard raised an eyebrow but didn't push.
Calder forced his eyes back to the presentation, but his focus slipped again. His mind drifted to the hidden door behind his office desk—the door that led to the winter garden.
He rarely invited anyone into that space. Only two people in the entire building even knew it existed. It was the only room in the tower where he felt something close to peace.
He hadn't expected to mention it to her.
And he hadn't expected her reaction.
"Most people who build glass towers forget they need something living inside them."
Her words had stayed with him.
Soft. Accurate.
Uncomfortably accurate.
He realized Richard was staring again. "Sir, do you want to approve the projected adjustments?"
"Yes," Calder said, too quickly. "Approved."
Richard hesitated. "You're sure?"
"Yes," Calder repeated, colder. "Next item."
Richard nodded, but the others exchanged subtle glances. They weren't used to seeing him unfocused. Calder didn't care. At least, he told himself he didn't.
The meeting dragged for another twenty minutes before finally ending. Calder returned to his office, closing the door with more force than necessary.
He dropped a file on the desk and exhaled slowly.
He needed a moment alone.
He crossed the office and reached for the hidden door. It clicked open at his touch, the mechanism blending with the wall so seamlessly an untrained eye would miss it.
Warm air washed over him.
He stepped inside.
The winter garden was quiet except for the faint hum of lights and the soft rustle of leaves when the ventilation shifted. The plants greeted him with their silent resilience: dark green leaves, pale blooms, vines reaching upward as though chasing something unseen.
He walked between them, letting his fingertips brush lightly across the closest rose.
This room was the only place where he allowed himself to feel anything unfiltered.
Memories stirred—of mornings spent here when the grief was fresh and unbearable, when he needed something to pull him forward through the hours.
He touched the wooden table, the one piece from his grandmother he refused to replace. His notebook lay there, waiting.
He opened it.
The ink from earlier looked darker now.
February 6
Woke up too early. Apartment feels louder. Nothing has changed.
He clicked his pen.
February 6
Met the mediator today.
She sees more than she speaks.
Unsettling.
He stopped, hovering above the page. He didn't want to admit more. He didn't need to.
He closed the notebook gently.
The garden felt smaller today—not suffocating, but aware. As if it sensed an intruder had stepped into his carefully crafted order. A woman who asked questions with her eyes and gave answers with silence.
He didn't know yet if this was good or dangerous.
But he knew one thing:
She affected him.
He didn't like that. And he liked it too much.
A soft knock sounded from his office side of the door.
Calder stiffened. Hardly anyone knocked when he was in here.
"Mr. Voss?" Mara's voice filtered through the door. "The joint department session has started."
He straightened. "I'll be there shortly."
He took a long breath, closed the garden door behind him, and re-entered the sharp lines of his office. The peace fell away instantly.
He walked toward the elevator, face composed, heartbeat steadying again—but not fully.
Meanwhile, in the conference room…
Senna stood at the front of the long table, looking at the two department heads who were already mid-argument.
Dr. Layla Nwosu — R&D
Sharp, brilliant, tired
Eyes full of fire
Mark Belton — Public Affairs
Polished, defensive
Quick smile that didn't reach his eyes
"…and you completely misrepresented the partnership!" Mark snapped.
Layla crossed her arms. "Maybe if your team understood the first thing about scientific timelines—"
"My team understands deadlines—"
"Deadlines don't matter when data is incomplete—"
"Your team always says the data is incomplete!"
Senna raised one hand. Not high. Just enough.
Her voice stayed soft:
"Let's stop."
The room fell into a strange, uncertain quiet. Neither department head wanted to be the first to sit down, but neither wanted to look like they were ignoring her.
Senna walked to the center of the table, calm as if the air wasn't buzzing with tension.
"We're not here to blame," she said gently. "We're here to understand. So let's start with something simple."
She uncapped her pen.
Her voice stayed level.
"Tell me the moment this became personal."
Layla froze.
Mark blinked.
Senna waited. Not pushing. Not pleading.
Just standing. Present. Unshakable.
Slowly, Layla spoke. "When he copy-copied half the executive team on an email accusing R&D of incompetence."
Mark's jaw tensed. "I did that because your team hid information."
"We did not hide—"
"Please," Senna said calmly. "One at a time."
They fell quiet again.
Senna didn't look at them with judgment. She looked with something far more disarming: understanding.
People were more honest in front of gentleness than anger.
She had learned that long ago.
"Thank you," she said softly. "Now let's begin from there."
And the session began.
For the next hour, Senna untangled knots. She asked small questions that hit like strikes. She rewrote tones, not words. She turned accusations into explanations.
She noticed every eye twitch, every sigh, every flicker of guilt or resentment. She saw the old wounds between these teams—competitiveness, fear of being overshadowed, pride.
She guided gently but firmly.
She didn't let them escape their own truths.
At one point, when the argument rose sharply, she said in a steady whisper:
"If this room breaks, this company breaks. And none of you can afford that."
Silence.
Real silence.
Mark swallowed.
Layla looked away.
Senna breathed in slowly. "Good. Now we can continue."
Two hours later, the session ended with something that almost looked like progress. Tension still hung in the air, but it wasn't unmanageable. It was just honest.
People began collecting their things.
Lawyers murmured.
Assistants whispered about next steps.
Senna gathered her notes quietly. She was tired, but her mind was clear.
Then Mara approached her with a low voice. "Ms. Reeves? Mr. Voss is ready for your debrief."
Senna paused, her hand still on the notebook. "Now?"
"Yes. He asked that you go straight to his office."
Senna felt it again—
that small, firm grip of something shifting around her.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Something quieter.
Something that reminded her of stepping into cold water.
She nodded. "All right."
She slipped her notebook into her bag and walked toward the elevators, the floor feeling heavier with each step.
When the elevator doors closed around her, she let out the breath she'd been holding since the meeting started.
This wasn't just a job anymore.
Not when the man at the top of this building had asked to hear her truth privately.
And not when she—or he—seemed unable to ignore the pull between them.
The elevator chimed.
The doors opened.
Senna stepped out onto the top floor again, her heart steady, her steps quiet.
She walked toward Calder's office, stopping in front of the tall dark door.
She lifted her hand—
and knocked.
And on the other side of that door, Calder Voss lifted his head, the faintest tension tightening his grip on the pen in his hand.
"Come in," he said.
This meeting will change everything—and they both feel it, even before the door opens.