The atmosphere at Carter Corp changed the next morning. It wasn't something you could see, but something you could feel—a prickle on the skin, a whisper in the breakroom. The news that the CEO had stayed late with a junior architect was spreading like wildfire.
Alicia tried to keep her head down, focusing on the new corrections Arthur had suggested. But as she walked toward the elevator, a sharp voice stopped her.
"So, you're the one everyone is talking about."
Alicia turned to find a woman who looked like she had stepped off a high-fashion runway. Her hair was a perfect, icy blonde, and her suit cost more than Alicia's yearly rent. This was Melissa, the head of Marketing and a woman whose family had been trying to arrange a marriage with Arthur for years.
"I'm Alicia Mendes, from Architecture," Alicia said, trying to remain professional.
Melissa stepped closer, her perfume cloying and sweet—a contrast to the sandalwood scent Alicia had grown to find comfort in. "I don't care which department you're from, honey. I'm here to give you a friendly warning. Arthur Carter doesn't 'do' relationships. He's a man of business, not charity."
Alicia felt a flush of anger. "My relationship with Mr. Carter is strictly professional, Miss—"
"It better be," Melissa interrupted, her eyes narrowing like a cat's. "He has a past that would break a girl like you. He doesn't need a project; he needs a partner who matches his status. Stay in your lane, architect. Or you'll find yourself without a job faster than you can draw a straight line."
Arthur watched the interaction from his office window, his jaw clenched. He couldn't hear the words, but he recognized Melissa's predatory stance. He felt a wave of the old nausea—the fear of being manipulated by women who only saw his bank account.
But then, he looked at Alicia. She didn't shrink away. She squared her shoulders, looked Melissa in the eye, and walked past her with a quiet dignity that made Arthur's heart swell.
Later that day, Arthur's phone rang. It was his mother.
"Arthur, dear," her voice was warm, a rare comfort. "Your father and I saw the news. Or rather, we heard the rumors. You stayed late with an employee? And you looked... happy? Who is she?"
Arthur leaned back in his leather chair, a faint smile playing on his lips as he remembered Alicia playing rock-paper-scissors with Léo through the hospital glass.
"Her name is Alicia, Mother. And she's not like the others. She's... she's the light I didn't think I'd find in the dark."
On the other end of the line, his mother gasped. She had never heard her son speak like that. "I want to meet her, Arthur. Bring her to dinner this weekend."