The morning sun filtered through the wide windows of Horizon Media, washing the office floors in gold. Silver Adams walked in with her usual coffee and quiet smile, her heart still humming from the warmth of the weekend she'd spent with Raymond.
He had been different lately—more relaxed, less guarded. When he looked at her now, it wasn't with the careful distance of a boss, but with the softness of a man who was finally letting someone in.
She loved that version of him. The one who didn't need his title to feel powerful.
But happiness, she was learning, never stayed untested.
By midmorning, Silver was sorting through a pile of client drafts when a notification buzzed on her phone.
Unknown Number: You think he'll still love you when he knows the truth?
She frowned, assuming it was spam, and ignored it.
Ten minutes later, another message arrived.
Unknown Number: Should I tell him, or will you?
Her heart skipped.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
What truth?
Her mind raced, scanning through every possible mistake she might've made. But nothing—nothing—stood out as something worth threatening her over.
She tried to calm herself, but the words burned on her screen. She quickly tucked her phone away, pretending to stay focused on her work.
But her hands trembled.
By lunchtime, Silver's concentration had vanished completely. The screen blurred in front of her. The laughter from the other interns sounded distant, hollow.
She excused herself, stepping outside into the crisp Los Angeles air.
When she checked her phone again, there was another text.
Unknown Number: You don't deserve him. People should know what kind of woman you really are.
Silver's stomach twisted.
What kind of woman I really am?
Her breathing quickened. Whoever this was, they knew about her and Raymond—and worse, they were threatening to expose it.
Raymond called her just before she could spiral further.
"Silver?" His voice came warm, grounding. "You've been quiet all morning. Are you okay?"
She hesitated. "Just… tired."
He paused, like he could sense the lie beneath her tone. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I just need some air."
"Then take the rest of the afternoon off. You've been pushing too hard."
His care made her chest ache. She wanted to tell him everything—to hand him the fear in her heart—but she couldn't. Not yet.
He already had enough to handle. The company was preparing for a major media launch; he didn't need her anxiety clouding his focus.
"Okay," she said softly. "I'll take a short break."
"Promise me?" His voice dipped lower, tender.
"I promise."
That evening, Silver walked into her apartment and sat on the couch, phone in hand, staring at the texts again.
There were no new messages, but the silence felt worse than the threats.
She thought about calling Raymond—he'd drop everything if he knew—but she couldn't risk making it real. What if it was just a prank? What if she was overreacting?
Then the phone buzzed again.
This time, there was an image.
Her pulse stopped.
It was a photo of her and Raymond—taken through the tinted glass of his office. She was standing close to him, his hand brushing her arm in a gesture that looked far too intimate for anyone's imagination.
The caption read:
"Love looks bad on you, Miss Adams. Especially when it costs your job."
Silver covered her mouth, her body shaking. The blood drained from her face.
This wasn't a prank.
Someone was watching them.
Across town, Raymond Cole was in his penthouse, staring at the city from his balcony. He'd had a strange feeling all day—a tug in his chest he couldn't name.
He scrolled through his phone, thinking about Silver's voice earlier. She hadn't sounded tired. She'd sounded scared.
He was halfway through drafting a message when his phone buzzed with an alert from his company's private server—a flagged post on an anonymous gossip blog.
The title froze him in place.
"Billionaire CEO Raymond Cole Linked to Office Romance Scandal?"
His jaw tightened.
The post didn't name names, but the blurry image was clear enough for anyone to guess.
Silver.
Without a second thought, he grabbed his keys.
When he reached her apartment, Silver was sitting on the floor, the glow of her phone lighting her pale face.
He didn't knock. He simply entered, eyes dark with concern.
"Silver."
She looked up, startled, and tried to hide her phone, but he'd already seen it. The same image. The same words.
"I—I was going to tell you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I just didn't know how."
Raymond crossed the room in two strides, kneeling in front of her. "Who sent this to you?"
"I don't know," she said, tears spilling. "It started this morning. They said— they said I don't deserve you."
His jaw clenched. "You listen to me. No one—no one—decides what you deserve but you."
She shook her head, trembling. "They have pictures, Raymond. Someone's watching us."
He reached for her hand, his grip firm, grounding. "Then we'll find out who. But you're not facing this alone."
She looked at him—really looked—and for the first time since the messages began, she believed him.
There was something unshakable in his voice. Protective. Fierce.
And in that moment, as the city lights flickered outside and her heart pounded with both fear and relief, Silver realized something deeper:
Love wasn't just butterflies and warmth.
Sometimes, it was standing still when the world tried to pull you apart.