Prologue
"Did he really do it?" I breathed out, gripping the pen in my hand.
My companion placed his palm on the table, leaning slightly toward me.
"Layra, please don't jump to conclusions. What if it wasn't him?"
With those words, he seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as me.
"All the evidence points to him," I said, setting the pen down and adjusting my glasses.
"No, I don't believe it. He was framed. I'm sure: it can't be. It's a lie," he retorted sharply, leaning forward and tightening his fingers on the edge of the table.
The lump rising in my throat forced me to end the conversation.
"We should sort this out later," I said, leaning back in my chair. "For now, leave me alone."
I spun sharply in my office chair, turning away from him.
"But—"
I silently raised my palm. Swiftly and commandingly.
The man fell silent, hesitated for a second, then walked out, quietly closing the door behind him.
Tapping my fingers on the armrests, I stared at a single spot on the floor. Breathing was becoming harder, my heart pounding so hard that my hand moved to my chest on its own, but this was no time for self-pity.
There were too many enemies around. If they saw even a single tear, it would give them a chance to strike harder. Though after such news, it was hard to imagine what could be worse. How could he? All I could do was hope that some refutation would surface and restore him in my eyes.
I didn't want to cry, didn't want to beg. I just wanted silence.
Silence. A second. One. Two. Three.
I opened my eyes and, turning back to the desk, noticed the nameplate with my name. Layra. Layra Cypher.
Once I had been a fragile girl. Now I had become an example for my past self.
I had chased higher and higher peaks, often using them to drown out anxiety, but now...
A freezing cold swept through my body again, as if hundreds of needles had pierced me. My lips pressed together.
To the side stood a couch. Fortunately, it was very close. Leaning over, I picked up a blanket. Burgundy, fleecy, and soft, with chrysanthemum patterns. I immediately wrapped myself in it.
Fragments of the past raced before my eyes. I could deceive myself as much as I wanted, but the body cannot be fooled. My chest ached again, and my shoulders sank on their own.
That day had become the starting point. No, I told myself. Enough.
Closing my eyes, I continued counting silently.
Four. Five. Six. Seven.
My hands resolutely settled on the armrests. I narrowed my eyes.
Too early. Far too early. Suppose I forgive him — I might — but how could I trust him? I can hardly believe it... Another game under new rules. And again these attempts to circumvent them or... Break them. No. Turn against him. No. Make him an enemy and destroy him. No. Then what? Or should I reconsider the previous options?
Calculating scenarios is a habit of mine. But an outcome like this wouldn't even visit me in a nightmare. He had dared to "hand over" the most valuable data to Jasmine. With it, I had been building an unshakable strategy. Knowledge that would have allowed me to build one of the most powerful business empires.
The board, covered with dozens of projects, caught my attention with its gleam. I didn't take my eyes off it.
In any case, I kept telling myself it wasn't fatal. Perhaps I still couldn't grasp the scale of this blunder.
But it was time to admit the obvious: I still had the power to act and try to fix everything, and that was what mattered. For that chance, I was grateful.
The growing ache in my muscles intensified; staying seated was an ordeal. Tossing the blanket aside, I rose from the chair and began pacing around the desk. My thoughts wove a chaotic web: one thread healed, another frightened, a third seared. Each carried a solution, but which would prove the most effective?
The door swung open. I froze in place and slowly turned my head. The man who entered stopped at the entrance. A slight trembling. Darting eyes. Clenched fingers. All of it said more about him than necessary.
Our eyes met. I immediately looked away.
A pause. Every inhale and exhale felt like an eternity. The waiting could have gone on and on, but the silence came to an end.
