And once Tuesday was given the green light to stay, she wasted absolutely zero time.
She practically launched herself toward Lili.
"GUUURRLLL!" Tuesday squealed. "I haven't seen you in foevaaaa!"
Lili gasped just as dramatically and rushed forward.
"Iz has been far zoo long!" she exclaimed.
The two immediately slipped into familiar territory—hands on each other's arms, cheek-to-cheek air kisses on both sides, carefully angled to protect their makeup like true professionals.
Then Tuesday's eyes flicked—briefly, sharply—to Bobby.
One brow lifted.
A knowing brow.
Oh. She clocked it.
She turned back to Lili with a slow smirk.
"Guuurrrl," Tuesday drawled, "you been busy, ain't you?" She gestured vaguely between the two lovebirds. "Both of y'all been all over the damn internet lookin' high on love and shit."
"No shit!" Luca chimed in immediately. "Bobby got better game than me, for real!"
Silence.
Judgmental, loud, unforgiving silence.
"Luca," Foca said flatly, not even looking at him, "you've never had game to begin with."
"Ouch!" Luca clutched his chest like he'd just been stabbed. "That was fucked up, man! Where's the bro code?!"
"I-it's okay, sir," Bobby stammered, trying to help. "Y-you have great g-game…"
"Thank you, Bobby," Luca sniffed dramatically. "See? Even Bobby agrees I have game."
"Boo boo," Tuesday cut in instantly, "sit yo ass down before I yeet you outta here."
"Yes, ma'am," Luca said without hesitation, promptly shutting up and plopping onto the long velvet couch like a scolded child.
"ANYWAY," Tuesday continued, clapping her hands together, "I got tea." She turned to Lili. "Lili, gurl, take a seat."
Lili gently guided Bobby back into his chair before immediately reclaiming her rightful throne—his lap—settling in like she belonged there. Comfortable. Unbothered. Absolutely at home.
"Mmhmm…" Tuesday hummed, slowly scanning the PDA from head to toe with exaggerated scrutiny as she sat down across from them.
Once everyone was settled, Foca leaned back slightly, folding his hands.
"So," he said calmly, eyes glinting with interest, "Miss Tuesday. Everyone is seated. Please… serve the tea."
Tuesday smiled.
That smile that meant someone was about to be emotionally destroyed.
Luca leaned forward. Bobby stiffened. Lili beamed.
Because one thing was certain—
When Tuesday had tea,
it was never lukewarm.
Tuesday popped her tongue so violently it echoed around the office like a damn gunshot.
"Tch! GURL," she began, already winding up, "you will not believe the shit I just went through."
Everyone leaned in.
This was serious.
"So boom. I'm at this bougie-ass restaurant, right? Waiting for a client. I'm lookin' cute—very demure, very mindful, very 'don't fuck with me.' I'm minding my own damn business when in walks this crusty old hag."
Tuesday's hand flew to her chest in offense.
"She marches in smellin' like expired Chanel, dressed head-to-toe in last season's Prada—already a red flag—and she makes a beeline straight for me."
The room was dead silent.
"She looks me up and down and says—and I quote—'I can't believe this respectable establishment is letting beggars in now.'"
Lili gasped.
Bobby's mouth dropped open.
Luca whispered, "Oh hell no."
"And THEN," Tuesday continued, voice rising, "this dusty bitch tells the waiter to call the manager so I can get kicked out."
Tuesday scoffed.
"So in my head I'm like, what this bitch-ass hoe with a crusty lace front talkin' about? But I'm tryna be classy. I'm tryna be saved. So I don't say it out loud."
She snapped her fingers.
"But she double downs, y'all. Says the air is gettin' stinky because of me."
She froze dramatically.
"Eyebrows still on fleek. Shocked Pikachu face activated. 'Cause ain't nobody disrespecting me like that."
Foca pinched the bridge of his nose, already knowing where this was going.
"So I look at her and I say real calm, 'Lady… say that one more time.'"
Tuesday smiled sweetly.
"And she DID."
A collective oh shit rippled through the room.
"So I slowly stand up. Calm. Collected. She thinks I'm embarrassed—thinks I'm about to leave."
Tuesday laughed darkly.
"Little did that bitch know."
She mimed walking past someone.
"As I pass her—BAM—I molly-whopped her ass."
"YES!" Luca yelled before clapping a hand over his mouth.
"And get THIS," Tuesday continued gleefully, "not only was she wearin' a lace front—she had a lace back too. I ripped that shit clean off her head."
Lili wheezed. Bobby buried his face in his hands.
"She started screamin'. Like full banshee mode. Restaurant in chaos."
Tuesday popped her tongue again.
"So the manager comes runnin', tells me—politely—to release her. Which I do."
She smiled.
"After making sure everyone with eyes saw her balding-ass head."
"Tuesday…" Foca muttered, half horrified, half impressed.
"Oh it gets better," she said. "The hag starts threatenin' to sue me."
Tuesday laughed.
"Unfortunate for her, she fucked with the wrong bitch. Manager tells her I'm VVIP and that she instigated the whole thing. Says if she sues, the restaurant's suing back with receipts, footage, and a little bow on top—self defense, baby."
The room erupted.
"She storms out, can't even walk straight in them heels, still screamin' about how her son is gonna sue us."
Tuesday leaned forward.
"Plot twist."
Everyone froze.
"Her son… was my client."
Bobby gasped. "NO."
"Oh yes," Tuesday grinned. "When he shows up and finds out what happened? He goes ape shit on her. Drags her out. Practically yeets her into the street."
Luca slapped the couch. "QUEEN SHIT!"
"And then," Tuesday sighed dreamily, "this fine-ass man turns to me, damn near on his knees, apologizin', beggin' for forgiveness."
She fluttered her lashes.
"So I told him, 'You lucky I found Jesus.'"
The office LOST IT.
"And now?" Tuesday squealed, clapping her hands. "I got a date later. Kyaaaaa!"
Silence.
Then—
"…I love your life," Lili said reverently.
Foca shook his head, smiling despite himself.
"And this," he muttered, "is why Tuesdays are never boring."
"Just look at him—ain't he fiiiiine," Tuesday purred, flashing her phone like she'd just won the lottery.
Naturally, everyone leaned in.
Naturally… the moment they saw the screen, the room died.
Not quiet.
Not awkward.
Arctic. Silence.
The kind that bites.
"I–is that who I think it is?" Luca whispered, eyes widening like he'd just seen a ghost.
"Oh no…" Lili breathed, barely audible.
"Oh no what?" Tuesday frowned. "What's happenin'? Why y'all look like somebody just unplugged the heater?"
Even Bobby felt it now—the air thick, heavy, suffocating.
And then there was Foca.
His expression had gone so cold it was almost inhuman. The warmth drained from his eyes, replaced with something sharp. Calculated. Deadly calm.
The kind of look that didn't scream.
Didn't rage.
Just ended things.
"WHAT?" Tuesday yelped. "Y'ALL ARE SCARING ME!"
"Uhh…" Luca swallowed. "That guy… his name's Maxim, right?"
"Yeah," Tuesday answered slowly. "Why?"
The second the name left her mouth, Luca and Lili visibly winced.
Tuesday's smile vanished.
"Okay. Nope. Start talkin' right the fuck now, or I'm about to lose my shit."
She pointed at Luca, then Lili—anyone but Foca, because absolutely not.
Luca immediately turned to Lili, eyes pleading.
Family privilege. Use it.
The two locked eyes in a silent standoff.
One second.
Two.
Lili sighed in defeat.
She turned to Foca first, silently asking permission.
"Go ahead," Foca said evenly. Too evenly. "It's been a long time. It doesn't bother me anymore."
It very clearly still bothered him.
Lili took a breath.
"Erm… zhat is zhe arsehole zhat little bread's former girlfriend—of almost seven years—cheated on him with."
Tuesday froze.
"What."
"Long story short," Lili continued carefully, "little bread's high school sweetheart went zo a different university while he went to Juilliard. He wanted zo surprise her during zhe holidays."
Her voice dropped.
"He walked in on her being very… enthusiastically occupied… with him. In her dorm living room."
Luca shot her a look.
Did you have to say it like that?
Lili shot back.
What, you want footnotes?
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Tuesday screamed.
Like—full banshee mode.
She hurled her phone across the room as if it were radioactive.
It shattered on impact.
"RUACH!" she shrieked. "SANITIZE THAT BITCH!"
Ruach, unfazed and already disappointed in humanity, quietly put on gloves and collected the cursed remains.
Tuesday clutched her chest.
"Y'all! I almost went on a DATE with that asshole!"
Foca slowly stood.
Everyone immediately decided they loved sitting very still.
"Well," he said softly, smiling in a way that promised violence, "what a small world."
Foca reached forward and pressed a discreet button embedded into his desk.
The office door swung open immediately.
Chamber entered like a man summoned by fate itself—back straight, expression neutral, vibes immaculate.
"You called for me, young master?" Chamber asked calmly.
"Chamber," Foca said, eyes still fixed on the city skyline beyond the window, "you remember Maxim… don't you?"
Chamber's jaw tightened ever so slightly.
"Unfortunately, yes, sir. Very much so."
"Is he still married," Foca continued evenly, "to that bitch?"
The room froze.
Because that—that—was not formal language.
That was personal.
Foca only ever dropped the decorum in two situations:
When he was completely at ease, surrounded by people he loved.
When he was about to ruin someone's entire existence.
This was very clearly option two.
Even Bobby felt like he had accidentally wandered into a room he was not spiritually prepared to be in.
"Yes, sir," Chamber replied. "He is still married to said… 'bitch.'"
"Awwww HELL TO THE NAH!" Tuesday snapped, jumping to her feet.
If Foca was Pluto-cold—and yes, Pluto is a planet, fight me—then Tuesday was the damn sun. Blazing. Furious. Nuclear.
Two extremes no sane person wanted to stand between.
"Good," Foca said simply.
Everyone stared at him.
Slowly, he turned back toward the room, wearing a smile that promised long-term consequences.
"Well then," he said pleasantly, "now I don't have to feel bad about finally retaliating."
His eyes glinted—bright, sharp, delighted.
"Tell Schrödinger he has a new target."
"Yes, sir," Chamber replied smoothly, already turning on his heel.
"W–wait," Bobby squeaked, voice cracking. "S-Schrodinger?"
"Oh," Lili said softly, patting Bobby's arm, "once zhey're involved, no one really knows if zhe target is still alive or dead."
She smiled sweetly.
"Hence—Schrödinger."
"That," Luca added grimly, "is why you never, ever get on Foca's bad side."
Bobby let out a tiny hiccup.
His soul briefly left his body.
As Chamber turned to leave, his steps slowed.
Someone was lurking just outside the door.
And not lurking well, either.
Before Chamber could even react, the intruder clearly sensed the murderous intent radiating off him and chose the wisest option available—
Self-preservation.
"WAIT—SPARE ME! I COME IN PEACE!" the person yelped, immediately stepping into view with both hands raised high in surrender.
Everyone turned.
And just like that—snap—the suffocating tension in the room evaporated.
Bobby nearly got emotional whiplash.
"Hey," Luca squinted at them, "aren't you one of the fans that attended live on LEAVEN?"
He snapped his fingers. "What was your name again? Hyo—Hyo—"
"Hyouka," Foca supplied calmly, recognition flickering in his eyes. He remembered them clearly. It was hard not to remember someone that loudly committed to being a Foca stan.
"Hyouka! That's it!" Luca said, pointing. "Knew it!"
"Aww, shucks!" Hyouka blushed, practically vibrating. "It's such an honor that you remember me!"
"What brings you here?" Foca asked politely, his expression returning to its usual gentle smile.
"Oh! Right—okay—so!" Hyouka took a deep breath.
"I've decided to really risk it all because I want to be your personal secretary, sir Foca."
Everyone blinked.
"I tracked you all down—creepy, I know—but it's for my dream! I flew all the way from the Philippines just to apply in person. I have a degree in psychology, I'm very hardworking, and I promise I won't let you down—just please give me a chance—"
They kept rambling, hands flailing wildly.
Strangely enough, no one found it annoying.
If anything, it was… admirable. Flying across the world just to chase a dream took some serious guts.
"Oh! And I've watched every episode of How to Get Away with Murder, I'm an avid true crime podcast fan—shoutout to my girl Stephanie Soo—"
They pumped their fists excitedly.
"And I didn't mean to overhear earlier, but if you need someone erased from the face of the earth, kindly direct me to the person. I have arsenic in my bag and I'll get the job done."
Dead silence.
"Holy shit," Luca laughed. "You'd really go that far for Foca? Is he your idol or something?"
"No, no!" Hyouka immediately shook their head.
"Not an idol, sir Luca. Sir Foca doesn't like that. I'm just… deeply inspired by him. I admire him greatly. Simply put."
Then, turning earnestly to Chamber—
"So, sir Chamber, if you could just point me toward whoever Schrödinger is, we can get started."
The sweetness.
The enthusiasm.
The casual offer of murder.
Foca burst out laughing.
Like, genuinely laughed.
All the cold fury from earlier vanished completely.
"Hyouka, was it?" he said, wiping a tear from his eye.
"The one and only!" Hyouka beamed.
"Congratulations," Foca said warmly. "You're hired."
Everyone froze.
He decided to trust Hyouka for several reasons.
One—Hyouka was absolutely not joking about committing a felony for him.
Two—their tracking skills were terrifyingly impressive. Tracking him down in New York was no small feat.
Three—during LEAVEN's live audience selection, Hyouka had stood out during the in-depth background checks.
So yes.
Congratulations, Hyouka.
You are now officially Foca's personal secretary.
And his side bitch.
Unfortunately, you can never be his main bitch.
That position is eternally—and tragically—reserved for Luca.