“Stop it.” Brinley batted Austin’s hand away, then rose to her feet and straightened her clothes. “I really need to get back to the office—there are contracts piling up on my desk waiting for my signature.”

Instead of pressing further, Austin smoothed the rumpled collar of her blouse with quiet care. “Miguel will take you.”

“There’s no need to bother him. I can drive myself.”

Austin cut her off, his voice firm yet edged with concern. “Rush hour will be brutal. Let Miguel use my car and you’ll get there faster.”

His unwavering look left her no room to argue. She sighed softly and conceded with a nod.

When they stepped out of the lounge, Miguel was already stationed outside, waiting. The instant he spotted them, he dipped his head respectfully. “Mr. Moore. Mrs. Moore.”

In a steady, commanding voice, Austin ordered, “Take her back to the office. Make sure you drive safely.”

Miguel inclined his head. “Understood.”

Brinley reached for her bag, but before she could step away, Austin suddenly reached out and seized her hand.

She turned back with a questioning look. “What is it?”

His fingertips traced across the back of her hand, his expression unusually solemn. “I did what you asked. The butler’s been reassigned to Hillcrest Villa.”

He lingered for a moment before his voice dropped, quieter now. “When you’re done with work, come home.”

The phrase “come home” carried such tenderness it unraveled Brinley’s guarded composure.

“Alright.” She tightened her hold on his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll finish up and head back. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

His smile deepened, his eyes glowing with quiet affection. “I won’t.”

Darkness stretched around them as the vehicle moved steadily, Miguel’s hands firm on the wheel.

Brinley leaned her temple against the cool glass, watching neon signs flicker past while her thoughts churned over the finer points of VantagePath Realty’s merger with Shaw Group.

Her phone suddenly vibrated, slicing through the quiet. The caller ID showed Shaw Group’s front desk. She slid her thumb across the screen and answered. “Hello?”

A shaky, almost breathless voice spilled through the receiver. “Mrs. Moore… are you free? Could you come back to the office? Corbin… he’s in trouble—he’s being cornered.”

Brinley’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s going on? Tell me clearly.”

The receptionist stammered, “I-I went to the break room for water, and when I passed the Secretarial Department, I heard shouting. They were accusing Corbin of using the meeting room projector without approval. They kept saying he doesn’t belong here. They’ve locked him inside. I thought about helping, but I didn’t dare…”

The receptionist’s voice dwindled to a whisper, weighed down by fear of being dragged into the conflict.

At those words, a chill swept across Brinley’s face.

She remembered how Corbin had once been a timid graduate intern, and under her guidance, he’d grown into a dependable, meticulous assistant. Quiet by nature, he had never been the type to stir up conflict.

The staff in the Secretarial Department weren’t really attacking him. They were singling him out because of his youth—and more importantly, because he had followed her from VantagePath. They were deliberately piling on pressure, waiting for him to falter. What looked like bullying Corbin was only a front for targeting Brinley.

“I’ve got it. I’ll be back right away,” she told the receptionist.

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