The sterile brightness of the company lobby shimmered beneath the glow of modern chandeliers as Ophelia swept inside with practiced elegance—but her eyes were burning with fury. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as she marched toward the front desk.

“Excuse me,” she asked the receptionist, forcing a smile, “could you tell me where Mr. Grey’s office is located?”

“Seventeenth floor,” the receptionist replied politely.

“Thanks.” Ophelia gave a tight nod and turned briskly, her lips pressed into a line.

—

On the 17th floor, Lia came skidding into the lounge area where Amy was sitting on a velvet couch with a tablet in hand.

“What in the world is going on?” Amy whispered, startled by Lia’s sudden appearance.

“Just act along with me. I’ll explain later,” Lia said, breathless, her voice tinged with urgency.

“Oh… okay,” Amy replied, visibly flustered but trusting Lia’s judgment.

—

Down the hall, Ophelia moved steadily, heels pacing in sync with her spiraling thoughts. As she neared Lucian’s office corridor, she heard voices—soft, feminine, teasing—filtering through the air.

“He’s so hot,” one woman said, giggling.

“I know, right?” another agreed. “I wasn’t interested at first, but now…”

Ophelia’s brows furrowed as she turned the corner to see Lia and Amy chatting, unaware—or so it seemed—of her presence.

“I wasn’t either,” Lia laughed. “But, I mean… I have this weird obsession with hot guys whose names start with S.”

“You’re so weird,” Amy grinned.

Ophelia’s blood boiled instantly. S… as in Sen? Her fists clenched at her sides. Her vision blurred red. She couldn’t stand another second.

With barely controlled rage, she stormed across the corridor.

“Oh, hi,” Lia said sweetly, flashing a nonchalant smile as she spotted Ophelia charging forward.

“I had my doubts,” Ophelia spat, “but you really are just like her.”

“What?” Lia blinked, stepping back, playing perfectly confused.

“You seriously think I wouldn’t notice you eyeing my husband?” Ophelia hissed, venom in her voice.

“Your… husband?” Lia tilted her head, the picture of innocent confusion. “Who?”

“Don’t act stupid,” Ophelia snapped. “I know your type. I’ve seen what girls like you are capable of.”

Amy stiffened at the rising tension, and after exchanging a glance with Lia, she quietly slipped away—leaving the two alone.

“Excuse me?” Lia’s voice dropped cold, matching the ice now settling into her expression. “I don’t know what weird obsession you’ve got going on, but let me clarify something for you.”

Ophelia blinked, unsettled by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“We weren’t talking about your husband.” Lia rolled her eyes dramatically. “We were talking about the K-pop singer Suga. You know, the guy from BTS?”

Ophelia’s mouth opened, then closed. Her breath caught.

“I…” she stammered.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Lia said, stepping a little closer now, her voice soft but slicing like steel. “Did I ever say your husband’s name? Or mention anything that would even suggest him?”

Ophelia faltered. “I heard what I heard.”

“No, what you heard was your own paranoia screaming back at you,” Lia said, her tone even, cool. “And if you’re that insecure about your husband… maybe the problem isn’t me.”

Ophelia’s jaw loosened, and for the first time in the conversation, she seemed unsure.

Lia leaned in just slightly, her eyes locked on Ophelia’s. “Also… don’t ever assume I’d be interested in someone who clearly belongs to someone else.”

The words hung in the air like a warning bell.

Ophelia, stunned into silence, could only watch as Lia brushed past her with a graceful step, her heels clicking calmly against the floor. Her smile returned—but this time, it was ice-cold.

Behind her, Ophelia stood alone in the corridor, flushed with embarrassment, her insecurity exposed like a raw wound.

And Lia, her head held high, didn’t even look back.
Because this wasn’t about Sen.
It never was.

It was about control.

And Lia had just taken hers back.