Chapter 47 Not Subtle At All
[Nyx]
Break time was over. Now came strength training. Then Lysander's voice rang out across the field.
"Alright, pull-ups next!" Lysander's voice carried across the training ground. "Forty reps, standard form. Line up!"
I moved to the bar with the other warriors, jumping up and gripping the cold metal.
The first twenty came easily. At thirty, I felt the familiar burn setting in.
At thirty-five, my arms started shaking.
"Eyes on me, Verdant!" Lysander moved directly beneath the bar, amber eyes locking onto mine. "Five more. Push through."
Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty.
I released the bar—
My landing was off-balance. I stumbled forward—
Strong hands caught my waist, steadying me before I could hit the ground.
"Easy." Lysander's voice was low, breath warm near my ear.
Our faces were close. So close I could see the gold flecks in his eyes.
His hands stayed on my waist—not just a second, but longer. Long enough that I became acutely aware of the heat of his palms through my training gear, the firmness of his grip, the way his thumbs pressed slightly into my sides.
"I'm good," I whispered.
"You sure?" His eyes searched mine, and something in his expression made my breath catch.
"Yeah."
He released me slowly, his hands sliding away with obvious reluctance. "Good work," he said quietly, then stepped back, clearing his throat. "Water break! Five minutes, then we're doing push-ups!"
---
The break passed in a blur. I was still feeling the phantom warmth of his hands on my waist.
"Push-up formation!" Lysander commanded. "One hundred reps. Standard form!"
As I got into position, Lysander crouched beside me—close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed mine.
"You've got this," he said, voice pitched low. His hand touched my shoulder blade, adjusting my position. "Maintain this form."
"Trying to," I managed.
"I know." His fingers trailed down my spine briefly—professional adjustment or something more, I couldn't tell. "I'll be right here."
"Begin!"
The first fifty flew by. At seventy-five, I was still strong.
At ninety, my arms started burning, shaking with effort.
Lysander's hand settled on my lower back—warm, steady, grounding. "Last ten. I've got you."
His palm pressed slightly, fingers spreading across my back in a way that felt far more intimate than it should in the middle of a training field.
Ninety-three, ninety-five, ninety-seven, ninety-nine, one hundred.
"Done!" I collapsed on the mat.
Lysander stayed crouched beside me, his hand still on my back, moving in slow circles as if checking my breathing. But the touch felt deliberate, careful, almost tender.
"You did great," he said quietly, meant only for me. "Your strength is fully back."
He reached out, wiping sweat from my forehead with his thumb—a gesture that made my pulse spike because there was no training-related reason for it.
Our eyes met. Held.
Then he stood, his expression shifting back to stern captain. "Everyone! Ten-minute break!"
---
Symone dropped down beside me with a knowing grin. "Girl, you two are not subtle at all."
"What?" I drank water, trying to look innocent.
"Oh please." She laughed. "The way he caught you? His hands on your waist for that long? And the back touching during push-ups?" She shook her head, grinning. "Married or not, you two are so obvious."
Heat flooded my face. "He was just checking my form—"
"Sure he was." Symone's grin widened. "And I'm sure he checks everyone's form that... thoroughly."
I glared at her. "Shut up."
"I'm just saying," she continued, clearly enjoying herself. "The whole 'professional instructor' thing? Not working. At all."
I'm not talking to him anymore, I thought, shooting a glare across the field at Lysander.
He was correcting another warrior's technique, all business—then he glanced over and caught my eye.
That smug little smirk.
He knew exactly what Symone was saying.
Definitely not talking to him, I decided firmly.
---
After training ended, I went back to the west wing to shower and eat. Then I changed into the navy blue suit Ariel had prepared.
I stood before the full-length mirror in the west wing bedroom, studying my reflection.
The navy blue suit fit me perfectly—this had been my mother's favorite color. Ariel said this Italian custom-made suit had only been worn by my mother at the most important business meetings. The clean cut and exquisite details radiated understated but undeniable authority.
I pulled my hair into a sleek bun, revealing my mother's silver moonstone earrings. Light makeup. Red lips. Heels.
Mother's briefcase sat on the bed. I opened it, placing inside all the documents Father had given me—Eclipse's equity certificates, board appointment letters, Raymond's termination notice.
And Mother's pen. Black, her name engraved on the barrel: Diana Verdant.
She would be proud of you, Sylva said softly.
"I hope so."
---
Eclipse Pharmaceuticals headquarters occupied the heart of the business district—a thirty-story glass tower, with Mother's office on the top floor.
The building's lobby was spacious and bright, ceiling soaring ten meters high, walls displaying Eclipse's research achievements throughout the years. My mother's photo held the most prominent position—standing in a laboratory, white coat pristine, smile confident and warm.
When I entered, both receptionists immediately stood, their expressions showing obvious nervousness and awe.
"Miss Verdant!" The older one quickly came around the desk, voice trembling with excitement. "We've been waiting for you. The elevator is ready."
She guided me to the private elevator—the one that only went to the top floor. Eclipse's logo was etched on the doors: a sun being eclipsed.
"All executives are waiting for you in the thirtieth-floor conference room," the receptionist said, voice reverent. "And... your mother's office has been cleaned. Mr. Anderson said if you need time to adjust, the meeting can be postponed."
"No need," I said. "Start on time."
The younger receptionist suddenly spoke, voice shaking. "Miss Verdant... I just want to say... hearing you fired Raymond, the whole company breathed a sigh of relief." She paused, glancing at her colleague, then added more quietly, "Besides embezzling company funds... he also sexually harassed female employees. Multiple times. But he had Mr. Verdant's protection, so no one dared speak up."
"That bastard." The curse slipped out before I could stop it. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms.
I forced myself to breathe, then turned to look at her—this girl, probably in her early twenties, eyes full of sincerity and barely suppressed relief.