Cassian's POV – Strategic Review Briefing Room
He didn't need to attend the mid-cycle performance touchpoint.
But he was there, seated at the back, silent and unreadable.
Across the table, analysts presented updates in the standard tones of executive theater. Most of it blurred.
But then—
Halfway down the table, quiet and focused, was Lyra Elmont.
She wasn't presenting. Just observing. Taking notes in sharp, neat strokes. Not trying to stand out. Not trying to vanish, either.
That was what made him pause.
The stillness of her concentration. The precision in how she watched, like she was storing every word for later dissection.
Her scent was masked. Almost sterile. But it didn't matter.
He knew her mind now.
And that was enough to make him stay an extra five minutes longer than planned.
---
Lyra's POV – Strategic Wing, Conference Room
She didn't have to look to know he was there.
Cassian Dorne. His presence was a pressure system. Subtle, but shifting the room around him.
She didn't fidget. Didn't lift her gaze. But her pulse betrayed her.
He wasn't watching her. Not directly.
He was watching her work.
Or worse, understanding it.
When he finally moved on, she breathed again. Barely.
---
Cassian's POV - Executive Wings
He stood with his back to the window, a familiar folder in hand. Elmont's revisions, tight margins, spare phrasing, cool logic.
Theo lingered near the desk.
"She always work this cleanly?" Cassian asked.
Theo nodded. "Even before rotation. Most people just didn't notice."
"They should've."
Cassian's finger ran along the margin where her writing had curved, tight and angular.
"Keep her where she is."
---
Late Afternoon
The door swung open without a knock.
Celeste, composed in heels and a flawless gray coatdress, stepped in with her usual quiet entitlement.
"I'd like to meet your staff," she said.
Cassian didn't look up immediately. "Why?"
"Presence. Observation. I want them to see me before things become formal."
He closed the folder. Slowly. "Things aren't formal."
Her smile didn't shift. "Then consider this pre-formal. I'd like them to associate my name with the leadership they already trust."
He studied her. "You think that kind of familiarity builds loyalty?"
"I think it prevents surprises."
Cassian exhaled, gaze distant now. He could still see the ink of Elmont's notes in the corner of his vision.
"Fine. I'll arrange it."
Celeste stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on the desk. "You're distracted."
"I'm working."
"You're thinking too much," she said softly. "And not about me."
He didn't respond.
Because it was true.
Her expression held, polished and polite. But not unknowing.
"Don't make me the fool, Cassian," she said.
And then she was gone. He didn't stop her.
---
Lyra's POV – Admin Lounge
Talia slid into the seat across from her, boots squeaking faintly on the linoleum.
"You've got that spreadsheet-glazed stare again," she said. "The one you get when you're trying not to have a meltdown."
"I'm just tired."
"You always say that when something's wrong."
Lyra gave a practiced smile.
But Talia didn't blink. "Let me guess. You saw him."
Lyra hesitated.
Talia snorted. "Yeah. Figured. He's not reading your reports for the numbers anymore, you know."
Lyra's hand clenched slightly around her mug.
"You think he's just wandering the strategic floor for fun?" Talia went on. "Girl, you're a case study in executive fixation."
Lyra said nothing. Because she didn't know what to say. Or where the line was anymore.
---
Michael's Office
Michael looked up from his desk as she gathered her things.
His dark hair is neat but falling just slightly into his eyes.
Those eyes. Soft, brown, and steady, held a quiet warmth when they met hers, lingering a moment too long. His expression was easy, open in a way that felt like it could fold into something more, if she ever let it.
"You ever get tired of being invisible?"
She froze.
"All the time," she admitted.
He nodded, then: "I thought maybe..coffee?"
She didn't move. Not for a long second.
She wanted to say yes.
But then, like a shadow behind glass, a memory slid in.
Cassian, not in title or voice, but in how it felt to be seen.
"I can't," she said.
Michael's smile didn't fall. But it dimmed at the edges. "Okay."
He turned away. She stayed still.
And hated how much it stung.
---
Late Evening
She stayed until the office emptied.
She didn't know what she was waiting for.
Not praise. Not recognition.
But maybe permission.
To hope.
To stay.
She turned off her monitor and stared out at the rain-washed skyline.
And let a single thought rise.
Maybe I don't have to leave.
Just that.
No promises.
Just… maybe.