Élise didn't notice it all at once.
At first, it was just a feeling the kind that settles quietly in your chest before you understand why. Conversations paused when she approached. Laughter softened. Even the air felt heavier, as though the office had agreed on something she hadn't been invited to discuss.
By mid-morning, it became impossible to ignore.
A colleague she barely knew glanced at her, then away, lips pressed together in something close to disapproval. Another passed her desk without the usual greeting. Someone whispered her name not loudly, but clearly enough.
Élise kept her eyes on her screen.
She had learned quickly that reacting only fed curiosity.
Still, the tension crawled under her skin.
---
The rumors had evolved.
It was no longer just she has a boyfriend.
Now it was:
"So why is she always noticed by the CEO?"
"She acts innocent, but look at her."
"Maybe that's how she plans to climb."
That was when it stopped feeling harmless.
Zara sat beside her during lunch, unusually quiet. When Élise finally looked up, Zara sighed.
"They think you're playing a game," she said softly.
Élise's stomach dropped. "What game?"
Zara hesitated, then spoke carefully. "They think you already have a man… but you're still trying to get the CEO's attention."
Élise stared at her. "That's ridiculous."
"I know," Zara replied. "But it's spreading."
Élise's hands curled slowly in her lap. She had worked too hard to be reduced to a story that wasn't hers.
"I barely speak to him," she said.
"That doesn't matter," Zara said gently. "Perception matters more than truth in places like this."
---
Across the office, the story grew sharper.
People filled in gaps with assumptions.
Silence became strategy.
Every neutral interaction was reinterpreted.
"She thinks she's smart."
"French girls always think they're special."
"If she already has a man, why act like that?"
No one asked Élise directly.
They didn't need to.
---
By the end of the day, the rumors had climbed floors.
A passing comment in the elevator.
A careless remark during a meeting.
A knowing look exchanged between departments.
Until finally, it reached someone who never dealt in rumors but always heard them.
Giulia stood in Adriano Moretti's office, tablet tucked against her arm, expression controlled but alert.
"There's… noise," she said.
Adriano didn't look up. "About?"
"The intern. Élise Dupont."
That got his attention.
Giulia continued, choosing her words carefully. "People believe she's involved with a man outside the company. And yet… they think she's also seeking your attention."
Silence stretched.
Adriano set his pen down slowly.
"Who started this?" he asked.
"No one specific," Giulia replied. "It spread."
Adriano leaned back in his chair, jaw tightening slightly. He didn't like mess. He didn't like speculation. And he especially didn't like his name being used as a measure of someone else's ambition.
"Do they have proof?" he asked.
"No."
"Then why is my name attached?"
Giulia hesitated. "Because you noticed her. Once."
That single word settled heavily between them.
---
Downstairs, Élise packed her bag quietly as the day ended.
She felt exposed in a way she couldn't explain like her intentions were being rewritten without her consent. She hadn't chased anything. Hadn't crossed lines. Hadn't asked to be seen.
Yet somehow, she was the center of a narrative she didn't recognize.
As she walked out of the building, she didn't know that her name now sat on the CEO's desk not as a file, but as a problem.
And she didn't know that once Adriano Moretti began paying attention for the wrong reasons,
there was no such thing as staying invisible.
(Adriano's POV)
Rumors were inefficient.
Adriano Moretti disliked inefficiency more than he disliked noise.
He stood by the window of his office long after the building had settled into its usual rhythm, Milan stretched beneath him in neat lines and glass reflections. From this height, everything looked ordered. Predictable.
Inside the company, however, something had shifted.
His name had begun circulating in conversations it did not belong to.
That alone warranted attention.
---
Adriano did not ask questions impulsively.
He gathered facts.
The private investigator sat across from him now, a thin folder placed neatly on the desk between them.
"You asked for discretion," the man said. "I moved quietly."
Adriano nodded once. "Report."
"The man seen frequently with Élise Dupont," the investigator continued, "is named Pedro Moretti."
Adriano's expression did not change.
"Continue."
"He has no official position in the company. Appears intermittently for external meetings. The relationship between him and Ms. Dupont seems informal frequent conversations, shared familiarity, no public displays of intimacy."
The investigator paused.
"And," he added carefully, "he is your younger brother."
Silence.
Not shock. Not anger.
Recognition.
Adriano exhaled slowly through his nose.
Of course.
Pedro had always moved this way close enough to disturb equilibrium, distant enough to deny intention. He didn't confront directly. He interfered. Created questions. Let people fill the gaps themselves.
Adriano closed the folder without opening it.
"That will be all," he said.
The investigator stood, collected himself, and left.
---
Pedro.
Adriano allowed himself exactly one moment to acknowledge the irritation tightening behind his ribs.
Pedro had always wanted attention not affection, not approval. Attention. The kind Adriano had never asked for but always received.
And now he was orbiting something Adriano had already noticed.
That was not coincidence.
---
Adriano requested a lunch meeting.
Nothing dramatic. No summons. No urgency.
Pedro arrived exactly on time, relaxed, wearing that infuriatingly casual expression that had always suggested he belonged everywhere and nowhere at once.
"You wanted to see me?" Pedro asked, sliding into the chair opposite him.
"Yes," Adriano replied calmly. "Sit."
Pedro smiled faintly. "You're in a serious mood. Should I be worried?"
Adriano ignored the comment. "I hear you've been spending time near my office."
Pedro shrugged. "I have meetings. I exist."
"Near an intern," Adriano added, tone even.
Pedro's eyes flickered just for a fraction of a second.
Then he laughed softly. "Is that a problem?"
"That depends," Adriano said, folding his hands. "On intention."
Pedro leaned back. "You've always been obsessed with intention."
"And you've always hidden behind ambiguity."
Pedro's smile thinned. "Careful. You sound interested."
Adriano's gaze sharpened not defensive, but controlled. "I'm interested in order."
"Of course," Pedro said lightly. "You always are."
They studied each other across the table two men who had never learned how to speak plainly without turning it into a contest.
Adriano broke the silence first.
"Whatever game you think you're playing," he said quietly, "remember where you are."
Pedro tilted his head. "Is that a warning?"
"It's advice," Adriano replied. "Take it or don't."
Pedro stood, adjusting his jacket. "Relax. You give me too much credit."
As he walked away, Adriano already knew that was a lie.
---
That evening, Adriano returned to his office and closed the door.
He sat at his desk for a long moment, unmoving.
Pedro's involvement explained the timing. The escalation. The way the rumors had sharpened so quickly.
What it did not explain was the discomfort sitting heavy in his chest.
He disliked chaos.
And Élise Dupont had become a variable.
---
He called Giulia.
"Have Ms. Dupont come to my office," he said. "Tomorrow morning."
"May I ask the reason?" Giulia ventured.
"No," Adriano replied calmly.
---
Élise arrived exactly on time.
She stood straight, hands clasped loosely in front of her, eyes steady but cautious. Adriano noticed that immediately she wasn't defensive. She was bracing.
"Sit," he said.
She did.
Adriano did not begin with accusation. He never did.
"How are you settling in?" he asked.
"Well," Élise replied carefully. "I'm learning."
"Good." He paused. "Because perception matters here."
Her gaze lifted slightly.
"There are rumors," Adriano continued. "I don't entertain them. But I do correct disruptions."
Élise's breath tightened. "I haven't done anything inappropriate."
"I know," he said.
That surprised her.
Adriano leaned back, studying her face the restraint, the quiet tension, the effort it took for her to remain composed under pressure.
Then he asked the question that had been disturbing him since the investigator spoke.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
The room went very still.
Élise blinked once.
"No," she said. "I don't."
Her answer came quickly. No hesitation. No performance.
Adriano held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary.
"Good," he said finally.
Not approval.
Not relief.
Just confirmation.
"You may go," he added.
As she stood and left, Adriano remained seated, staring at the closed door.
Pedro's interference was now clear.
But Élise Dupont?
She was not playing the game everyone thought she was.
And that realization unsettled him far more than the rumors ever had.