Chapter 4

Adele pushed through the glass doors of Lancaster Holdings like she was at the risk of breaking. Her shoes marched harshly against the floor. The only sound she could hear was that of her breath, fast-paced and caught in her chest. She kept her head down, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone, pretending to reply messages that weren't coming

It wasn’t the humiliation that stung most — it was the way Liam Lancaster had looked at her.

Cold. Calculating. Like she was enigmatic, a puzzle he debated whether to solve or throw away.

The elevator dinged. She stepped in, alone, the moment the doors closed, her cover fell. Her back hit the wall, she tossed her bag to the ground. Her chest fell into quick, uneven breaths. And still, she couldn’t stop thinking about the moment when his eyes met hers — right before she walked out.

For a split second, she was sure something had flickered behind his expressionless face. Not anger. Not annoyance. Something else.

Regret?

But she shook her head hard. Don’t be stupid, Adele. Don’t romanticize it. Not again.

Her phone vibrated. A text from Mara.

Mara: Girl, are you okay? I just saw you walk past like you were about to cry and murder someone at the same time.

Adele blinked. She typed back quickly:

Adele: I’m fine. Just a rough day. I’ll explain later.

She didn’t want to admit what had happened. That the man she was trying not to fall for had just made her feel small and empty, like she didn’t belong in his world — which, to be fair, she didn’t.

The contrast between their lives was just way too much.

Meanwhile, on the top floor, Liam stood in his office, hoping she might walk back in and say something—Anything. Yell at him. Slam her fists against his chest. Anything. But rather, the door remained shut and she never did.

And the silence pressed on him like a boulder on his chest.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, something he hadn’t done in years — not since the early days of the company, when everything had been chaos and fire and he was still struggling to keep the company afloat like his father. But Adele had walked in, and suddenly everything felt like her.

She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever worked with.

Too soft. Too emotional. Too quick to challenge him. Not trying to impress him or his pockets, but,  it made her real. The way her eyes lit up when she believed in something. The way her mouth tightened when she was scared but wouldn’t show it. He noticed. Every crack she tried to hide.

And he’d just used it against her.

He shouldn’t have snapped. He knew that. But the look on her face, like he’d betrayed her. Made him feel like dirt.

He hated the feeling.

He never apologized. That wasn’t how things worked. If someone couldn’t handle the fire, they didn’t belong in this world where vulnerability was sickness. His works were only for the strong.

But with her… it wasn’t about handling him. It was about getting to him.

And she had.

Adele didn’t go straight home. She found herself walking aimlessly through the streets of SoHo, her mind buzzing and scattered. Everything about this job had been a risk — she knew that from day one. But she’d wanted it to work so badly, she needed the experience, and if she was being true fi herself, the pay most importantly. She also needed a fresh start. The control. The version of herself she’d promised to become.

No more giving everything to people who don’t choose you back. This thought made her shiver as it brought back memories of her ex.

Her last relationship had started that way. A sweet beginning. A charming man who said all the right things — until her career began to matter more than his comfort. Until he started saying she was “too much.” Too driven. Too independent. And slowly, piece by piece, he carved her down until she barely recognized the girl who once dreamed of having both — love and ambition.

She’d left that life behind and was never going back.

But Liam had cracked it open again and it left her confused.  Because the way he looked at her… it wasn’t indifference. It wasn’t hate. It was something worse.

It felt more like regret, regret that he mustered those feelings

And it was making her feel like she was back to her old self, one that could easily be manipulated into feeling small.

Back at Lancaster Holdings, Liam finally stepped away from his desk. He was supposed to be on a call with a tech firm in London. He didn’t care, his attention was divided and very much unevenly as almost all he could think about was, Adele. He crossed the office and pulled open the liquor cabinet hidden behind a false panel. He really needed something strong.

Scotch. Ice. Silence.

He stared out at the skyline. His father used to say that power and emotion couldn’t live in the same room. That you either ruled with your mind, or you got destroyed by your heart.

Liam had believed that. And still does.

He took a slow sip, then cursed under his breath. What the hell is happening to me?

He made the first mistake by bringing her into the meeting that morning. She wasn’t senior enough. But something about the way she handled the Peterson pitch last week struck him. She had insight. Guts. He’d trusted her instinct more than he trusted his own VP of marketing, and he was a senior at it.

When Adele finally made it home, a small but cozy studio apartment in the West Village — she kicked off her heels, collapsed onto her couch, and this time, rather than toss her bag, she kept it carefully. She didn't have much to handle it aggressively. She let out the breath she’d been holding since the elevator ride.

She’d have to show her face tomorrow. She wasn’t going to quit. But she needed to find her footing again. Liam Lancaster would not be the one to shatter her illusion that she was building a new life.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: I am sorry about earlier.

Her eyes popped as she stared at the message, unsure of what to feel about it. She had mixed emotions.

It had to be him. No one had wronged her in the past hours.

Adele stared at the message.

I am sorry about earlier

No name. No emoji. Just six words that cracked further walls she wasn’t sure she was ready to walk through.

She didn’t respond. Not yet.

She dropped her phone on the coffee table and padded barefoot into her tiny kitchen, pulling open the fridge with zero intention of eating. Cold air spilled out, brushing her skin, but her mind was miles away — replaying every second of their encounter. He said he wanted to see where this would lead, but his expression and actions said otherwise.

And now this.