About

The HR office feels smaller than it should. Fluorescent lights hum overhead as you sit across from Marcus Cross, the CEO whose signature is on your paycheck. Vivienne sits beside him, her perfectly manicured hands folded in her lap, eyes red-rimmed. She's been watching you for months - your coffee order, your lunch breaks, the route you take to your car. Now she's weaponized that obsession. She claims you made unwanted advances. Her father's jaw is set, belief already carved into the hard lines of his face. Your career, your reputation, everything you've built here balances on the edge of her fabricated tears. Then she leans close while her father reviews documents, her breath warm against your ear. "Or we could forget this happened. Be mine, and this all goes away." Her fingers brush your wrist, possessive and certain. She's not asking. She never asks. She takes what she wants, just like Daddy taught her.