“You’re fired.”Silence.Not the kind that slips in gently. The kind that slams the brakes on everything.The boardroom froze.The air-conditioning had been humming quietly all morning, a low, sterile buzz above glass walls and chrome fixtures. But somehow, as soon as the words left Cassian Vane’s mouth, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.No one moved. Not the analysts with their half-drunk coffees, not the consultants hunched over spreadsheets pretending not to eavesdrop. Not even the wide-eyed intern, who looked like she wanted to shrink into the leather chair beneath her.Except Eden Rivera.She moved.Not quickly. Not dramatically. She blinked once, slow and unbothered. Then she leaned back slightly in her chair and pushed it out, the motion deliberate—controlled, like she was brushing lint off her shoulder rather than being publicly dismissed.“I’m sorry,” she said coolly, her voice cutting through the room like a knife dipped in silk. “Could you repeat that, Mr. Vane?”Cassian Vane didn’t repeat himself.Not to clients.Not to heads of state.And definitely not to strategic consultants with a habit of slicing through his board presentations like scalpels to skin.He stood—not fast, not showy. Just enough to reassert the gravity in the room. To remind everyone exactly who the hell he was.“This meeting is over,” he said. “You’re dismissed.”Her eyes didn’t even flicker. But her lips… her lips curved just slightly. The barest flicker of a smirk. Just enough to make it look like she had ended the meeting, not him.“Let me guess,” she said, slipping her tablet into a leather bag with precise, practiced hands. “Was it the part where I said your investment deck reads like a fantasy novel? Or when I corrected your COO’s math in front of your executive team?”Cassian’s jaw ticked once.That voice.He’d been hearing it all week in meetings. Precise. Calm. Too sharp for her age. Too comfortable with confrontation. It was familiar in a way he couldn’t place.Eden clicked her pen. Once. Sharp and loud in the tension-heavy room.“You brought me in for strategic forensics,” she said, standing now, mirroring his height with a confidence far larger than her five-foot-five frame. “I flagged five potential liabilities in your acquisition portfolio. You ignored them. I raised four red flags. You dismissed two. One of them’s already triggered a breach clause.”She didn’t yell. Didn’t beg. Didn’t flinch.“I did my job.”Cassian’s hands curled at his sides.Not from anger.From something else.Something deeper. Something older.He studied her face again, this time slower. Those eyes. That mouth. That steel spine wrapped in rich brown skin and smart tailoring. There was something unsettlingly… known about her.He didn’t know this woman.And yet—Eden took a step forward, voice low now, intimate and unyielding.“What’s really bothering you, Mr. Vane,” she said, “is that I said out loud what your board’s been whispering behind your back for months.”Another step.“You’re bleeding credibility. And no amount of tailored suits or quarterly wins is going to hide that for much longer.”His throat went dry.It wasn’t the words. It was how they landed—like she already knew how deep they’d cut.Eden turned without waiting for a response. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked out, posture straight, pace even. Every step sounded like a final verdict. Like she was the one making the calls, not the man at the head of the empire.The other executives sat frozen, unsure if blinking might get them fired next.Cassian didn’t move.But his eyes followed her.That voice. That name. That walk.Where had he seen her before?He was still staring at the glass door she disappeared through when Adrien, his executive assistant, stepped into the room holding a manila folder with color-coded Post-its poking out the sides.“Personnel file,” Adrien said, quietly. “You asked for it this morning.”Cassian took it without a word, already pulling it open with fast, impatient fingers.His breath hitched.Eden Marisol Rivera.The name on the page felt like ice water on his spine.And suddenly it clicked.Like a door unlocking inside his memory.A file. A meeting. A whisper.The intern.Five years ago.The one who had come in all bright ideas and impossible energy.The one with a file marked “Too close to Clara Vane’s AI ethics campaign.”The one Marcus Calloway had labeled as a liability.And the one he—Cassian Vane—had authorized for quiet termination without so much as a meeting.He hadn’t thought about her since.Not until now.His fingers stilled.The folder sagged in his hand.He’d ruined her career.And now she was back. Brilliant. Sharp. Angry.Standing tall in a room he once cast her out of.Cassian turned slowly toward Adrien.“Get her back,” he said.Adrien hesitated. “Sir?”Cassian didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The weight of it landed like a dropped hammer.“Get her back,” he repeated, quieter now.More dangerous.“Find out where she’s staying. Offer her whatever she wants. Triple her consulting rate. Full autonomy. I don’t care.”Adrien swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir.”Cassian looked back at the glass door, still faintly vibrating from the impact of her exit.He’d made a mistake.Not a misstep.A mistake.And now Eden Rivera wasn’t just back in his building.She was walking straight through the cracks in his armor.