Chapter 4 Cracks in the Ice

The office was colder than usual-not by temperature, but in tone. Olivia stepped through the glass doors of Reign Capital like she always had, heels sharp, spine straight. But today, something in the air felt off.

Her phone buzzed with a new meeting invite. Subject: Strategy Sync – Urgent. Time: In five minutes. Location: Clinton's office.

No greeting. No context. Just a command.

She didn't bother stopping at her desk. The corridors felt too quiet, as if the walls were listening. As if they already knew something she didn't.

She knocked once on his door and entered.

Clinton Reign sat behind his desk, jaw locked, fingers steepled like he was holding in a storm. His usually unreadable expression teetered on something unfiltered-rage, maybe. Or worse, hurt.

"You're late," he said, though she wasn't.

Olivia blinked. "The invite came three minutes ago."

He didn't answer. Just stared. And then, flatly: "Why did you leave during work hours without notice?"

Olivia's breath caught.

"It was my lunch break."

"You didn't log it."

"You don't track my breaks."

"I do now."

The silence between them sharpened, suddenly brittle.

"You've been distracted lately," Clinton said, rising. "Missing small details. Taking personal calls. Changing your schedule without clearance."

She swallowed hard. "I didn't realize you were monitoring me like a security threat."

"I monitor what I value," he said-quiet, dangerous.

Her heart stuttered at the choice of words. But she didn't show it.

"Is this about the florist?" she asked.

Clinton's eyes darkened. "Who you see outside these walls isn't my business. Unless it affects this company."

"You mean you."

He stepped closer, too close. "If something affects my ability to rely on you, then yes-it becomes personal."

Olivia stood her ground. "Then maybe I shouldn't be so reliable anymore."

It slipped out before she could stop it.

Clinton still. "What did you say?"

She drew in a breath, steadying herself. "Maybe it's time I stopped being your shield, your backup plan, your emotional airbag. Maybe it's time to choose me."

Something passed between them then-a crack in their rhythm, in the roles they'd worn like armor.

And then, the unthinkable.

Clinton laughed-but it wasn't amused. It was hollow. Disbelieving.

"You won't leave," he said. "You need this job."

Olivia looked him dead in the eyes.

"Watch me."

She turned on her heel and walked out, pulse thundering, rage pulsing behind her ribs.

He didn't call her back.

And that, somehow, hurt more than if he had.

-Clinton didn't call her back.

And that, somehow, hurt more than if he had.

Olivia stepped into the elevator with her jaw clenched and heart pounding. As the doors slid shut, she leaned against the wall and let herself breathe-really breathe-for the first time in weeks.

She wasn't sure if she was about to implode or finally begin.

By the time she returned to her desk, her phone was vibrating with a new message. Unknown number.

> Don't ignore this, Liv. I'm in town. We need to talk. – Rick

Her breath hitched.

No.

Not today.

Not him.

The name alone was a ghost. A whisper from a life she'd buried in between Ethan's needs and Clinton's control.

> You owe me at least that, don't you?

The text blinked back at her like a dare.

And just like that, her carefully stacked world-already trembling-started to shake.

As Olivia stepped back into the office after her break, the weight she had momentarily shed with Lily came crashing back. The elevator dinged softly at the 43rd floor, and the moment the doors slid open, she felt it-that oppressive energy. Clinton's mood had shifted. The air was tight with it.

Her heels struck the polished marble with more force than intended as she walked past the curious stares of other employees. Something had happened in her absence. Something big.

She reached her desk, and before she could even settle, his voice rang out from the open office.

"Olivia. My office. Now."

She blinked. Not Mr. Reign. Not a clipped command. Clinton. And he sounded rattled.

She walked in with her spine straight, jaw tight. "Yes, sir?"

He didn't look up immediately, just stared at the file in his hand like it had personally betrayed him. Then, he tossed it onto the desk.

"Guess who's putting in a bid for the same property on 8th Avenue?" he asked.

Olivia arched her brow. "Rick James?"

He looked up sharply. "You already knew?"

She shook her head. "No. Just a hunch. It's the kind of bold move he'd make."

Clinton narrowed his eyes on her. "You've always had good instincts."

She didn't answer. He stood and paced behind his desk, something he rarely did. Clinton Reign didn't pace. He controlled. But right now, he was restless.

"I'm tired of his games," he muttered.

"Then don't play," Olivia said before she could stop herself.

He paused and looked at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She swallowed. "Maybe it's time Reign Capital stops reacting and starts redefining. We've been defensive. That's not you."

Clinton studied her for a beat longer than necessary. Then, something shifted in his gaze. It softened-barely.

"Close the door."

She did. Carefully.

"I need you to look into this deal," he said. "Quietly. Find out what Rick's angle is."

She nodded. "Consider it done."

But as she turned to leave, he said quietly, "And Olivia?"

She turned back.

"If he tries to approach you... stay away."

She froze. "Why would he approach me?"

He said nothing. His jaw tensed, and for the first time, she saw it-a flicker of something raw in his eyes. Not fear. Not jealousy.

Possession.

She left without another word, heart pounding.

What he didn't know was that Rick already had approached her once before-briefly, years ago, when things at Reign Capital had gotten unbearable. And she'd said no.

But what would she say now?