Anna stepped into the house, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. On her way through the hall, her eyes landed on Kira. Instantly, her brows furrowed.
For a fleeting mont, Anna was tempted to confront her outright, to demand the truth and rip through her lies. But she stopped herself. Soone as slippery and manipulative as Kira would never admit fault—not openly.
Still, there was no way Anna would let this incident slide. It had bruised her pride, and that was sothing she would never allow.
Heaving a steady breath, she diverted her steps and circled around the couch in the living area, settling herself deliberately where Kira couldn’t ignore her presence.
The sudden movent startled Kira. She flinched, her head snapping up, only to find Anna staring at her.
Her throat went dry. Mariam’s warning echoed in her mind, and for a mont her mask of confidence wavered. But quickly, she pasted on a smile, trying to cover her uneasiness.
Deep down, though, she knew she had crossed a line when she pinned the bla on Anna. And with how close Anna had co to exposing her earlier, it was foolish to believe she would simply let it go.
Anna leaned back, gaze steady and sharp, her eyes piercing through Kira like a blade. Then, in a tone so calm it was impossible to tell if she was mocking or being cordial, she said,
"You seem to be getting quite comfortable working here."
Kira’s forced smile froze on her lips. She opened her mouth to reply, but Anna didn’t give her the chance.
"Then you won’t mind cleaning the whole house," Anna cut in smoothly, her voice cool as steel. "After all, you seem to clean my room very diligently."
The words landed like a slap. Kira’s fake smile faltered, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Anna smirked, the curve of her lips deliberate, almost taunting. Rising to her feet, she moved closer—her steps slow, deliberate—until she was standing right in front of Kira.
Her voice dropped, quiet but firm, each word edged with warning.
"You may have saved yourself from being exposed today, Kira. But don’t mistake that for rcy. From this mont on, rember—I am not soone you can toy with. Cross again, and the consequences won’t be as forgiving."
With that, Anna turned on her heel, leaving Kira frozen in place, her heart pounding, her mask of confidence finally showing cracks.
Kira’s eyes burned with fury, her fists curling so tightly her nails dug into her palms. She seethed, glaring at the space Anna had just walked out from.
That warning... it wasn’t just words. It felt like a brand searing into her skin, scorching her pride.
"Agh!" she hissed under her breath, her jaw clenched. She hated being looked down on—especially by Anna. Weak, timid Anna. How dare she confront her so boldly? How dare she make her feel... small?
The humiliation twisted inside her like poison.
Just then, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the silence, snapping her out of her thoughts. With no one else around, Kira stord toward it, her irritation still painted across her face.
"Hello?" she answered, her tone sharp and impatient.
But as soon as the voice on the other end spoke, her expression faltered. The color drained from her cheeks, her grip on the receiver tightening until her knuckles whitened.
Her lips parted, but no words ca out. She stood frozen, a cold shiver crawling down her spine.
By the ti the line went dead, Kira’s heart was racing, her mind spinning in shock. Whoever had called left her not only confused, but utterly terrified.
***
[Glorious International – Conference Room]
The room was suffocatingly silent. The presenter, drenched in sweat, fumbled with the remote in his hand, his voice trembling as he forced himself to speak.
"S-so, as we have already agreed to the terms..." he began, trying to steady his tone, as though sheer willpower could save him from the man seated at the head of the table.
But it wasn’t just him who felt like he was standing on the edge of a blade. Every single person present—board mbers, analysts, even the senior executives—sat stiffly in their chairs, as if one wrong breath would draw the devil’s ire.
The devil being none other than Daniel Clafford.
He was supposed to be working from ho today, which was why the sudden eting had caught everyone off guard. Now, his icy gaze swept over the presentation screen, then locked on the presenter with an intensity sharp enough to flay skin.
Henry, standing at Daniel’s side, winced in sympathy for the poor man. ’Boss doesn’t even have to raise his voice. One glare and he looks like he’s already writing your obituary.’
But damn it if Daniel didn’t look unbearably sharp doing it. Even in this oppressive silence, his perfectly tailored suit, his sculpted features, and that aura of absolute authority made him seem untouchable.
"Is this all you have to show ?" Daniel’s voice finally cut through the silence, low and lethal.
The effect was instantaneous. The presenter flinched, his knees visibly shaking. A single drop of sweat rolled down his temple, threatening to betray his composure.
The silence returned, heavier now, pressing down on everyone like lead.
Then ca the blow.
"You call this a presentation?" Daniel’s tone sharpened, his words slicing through the man’s last shred of dignity. "Half-made slides, no depth in analysis, no clarity in your vision. Tell —were you hoping I wouldn’t notice, or are you simply incompetent?"
Instead the presenter’s lips opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. No words ca out.
The presenter was a second away from fainting. His hands trembled so violently that the laser pointer nearly slipped from his grasp.
Daniel’s voice dropped like a hamr. "I want a proper presentation on my desk by the end of the day. If you fail, don’t bother showing up tomorrow."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. No one dared speak, no one dared breathe.
Without sparing them another glance, Daniel shoved his chair back and stord out of the conference room, his sharp steps echoing like gunfire in the stunned silence he left behind.
The presenter, Jeffry, slumped against the table, his face pale. "H-how are we supposed to put together sothing convincing in a few hours? This is suicide..."
Henry gave him a forced smile, patting his shoulder with zero conviction. "Don’t worry, Jeffry. You’ll manage. Sohow."
But even he wasn’t sure. Daniel’s temper today was unlike anything he had seen in weeks.
Monts later, Henry hurried into Daniel’s office, only to freeze in the doorway.
His boss—The Daniel Clafford—was pacing back and forth, his aura radiating like a thundercloud ready to explode. Even watching him move was terrifying, like witnessing a predator circling its prey.
Henry’s throat went dry. Sweat pricked the back of his neck. And then Daniel’s eyes—dark, sharp, rciless—snapped to him.
Henry nearly collapsed on the spot.
"B-boss... is everything alright?" He managed the words, though his legs felt like they’d give out any second.
The silence stretched.
Then, out of nowhere, Daniel spoke.
"Henry..." His voice was low, deliberate. "Teach how to get into my wife’s good books."
Henry blinked. Once. Twice. His brain short-circuited.
The devil who just threatened to fire an entire room of executives... was now asking for help with his wife?
Henry almost wished Daniel had yelled at him instead. Because if he failed, he was sure to be transferred to the moon.
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