Chapter 168
“Try not to overwork yourself,” she said against my shoulder.
“No promises,” I replied, hugging her back briefly.
She pulled away, smiling. “I’ll see you at home… eventually.”
“Eventually,” I agreed.
She headed toward her car while I turned back toward Thorne headquarters, mentally shifting gears back into executive mode before I even reached the building
entrance.
Inside the office, my day continued normally. Meetings stacked one after another. Reports. Negotiations. Financial projections. By evening, I barely remembered the lunch conversation beyond Lila complaining about cybersecurity tests and stealing half my fries.
I stayed late finishing quarterly review preparations before finally heading home.
The house stood quiet when I arrived. Lights glowed faintly across different wings, meaning everyone was home but buried in their own routines. That was normal now. Shared property didn’t mean shared schedules anymore.
I passed Lila’s wing on the way to mine. Her lights were off; she was probably still at Quantum or out with her parents for dinner. It wasn’t unusual for us to go days without crossing paths inside the house despite living under the same roof.
Sometimes it felt weird. Growing up, we were constantly under each other’s feet, sneaking around hallways, and getting yelled at for breaking something expensive or stealing food from kitchens we technically had permission to use.
Now we scheduled time together like business partners balancing corporate calendars.
I dropped my keys on the counter, loosening my tie while heading toward the kitchen. The silence felt heavier than usual, but I brushed it off as exhaustion catching up with me.
Upstairs, I paused near the window overlooking the courtyard separating our living sections. Lights flickered faintly from one of the balconies. Probably Lila returning home later than usual. I considered texting her just to check if she made it back safely but decided against it. She wasn’t a kid anymore. Neither was I.
Still… routine comfort had a way of sneaking into my instincts whether I acknowledged it or not. I grabbed a drink, leaned against the counter, and stared out into the quiet property while my brain tried shutting down after another long corporate day. Everything felt stable. Controlled. Predictable.
I didn’t realize someone had already started building problems around assumptions I never saw forming.
And somewhere across the city, resentment quietly grew, waiting for the perfect moment to turn misunderstanding into something far messier than casual workplace tension.
Lila
Walking into Thorne Group always felt strange, like stepping into a place that belonged to two different parts of my life at once. One part was business, responsibility, and expectations that pressed against my shoulders heavier with every passing month.
The other part was memories, childhood laughter echoing in polished marble halls, sneaking into Uncle Xander and Aunt Zia’s study when we were younger, pretending we ran the world while the adults held meetings we barely understood. Now we actually were stepping into that world, and the weight of it felt very real.
The glass doors slid open as I approached, the familiar security team greeting me with respectful nods. I returned their smiles, adjusting the strap of my bag as I walked toward the elevators. I had been here countless times over the past year, yet today felt different.
The joint venture between Quantum and Thorne Group had officially moved into its second phase, which meant more collaboration, more meetings, and, unfortunately, more time navigating personalities that didn’t always welcome my presence.
Most of the staff treated me well. Professional. Cordial. Curious sometimes, but respectful enough to keep it subtle. They saw me as Quantum’s incoming head, as someone Aunt Zia trusted enough to hand over her legacy to, and that carried weight here. Still, there was one exception that seemed determined to make every visit slightly more exhausting.
Camilla.
I stepped into the elevator, pressing the floor that housed Alexander’s division. The mirrored walls reflected a version of me that still surprised me sometimes. Gone was the girl who stumbled through early internships, who leaned too heavily on instinct and emotion instead of discipline.
The woman staring back at me stood straighter, her posture calm and composed, her expression controlled in ways that came from hard lessons and long nights.
The elevator chimed softly as it opened, revealing the sleek hallway lined with offices and conference rooms. Employees moved through the space with practiced efficiency, voices low but purposeful, keyboards clicking like a steady rhythm beneath the corporate atmosphere.
Alexander’s assistant smiled the moment she spotted me.
“Ms. Thorne, he’s in the conference room finishing a call. He said to send you in when you arrived.”
“Thanks, Mara,” I said, offering her a warm smile.
I walked toward the conference room, the glass panels revealing Alexander standing at the head of the long table, tablet in hand, his voice steady as he spoke to someone through the screen. He hadn’t noticed me yet, which gave me a moment to observe him the way I sometimes did when he wasn’t looking.
He had changed so much over the years, though the shift had happened gradually enough that it never shocked me until moments like this forced me to pause and really see it. He stood like his father now, shoulders squared with quiet authority, his expressions measured, and his gestures deliberate. Even the way he tilted his head while listening mirrored Uncle Xander so closely it felt surreal sometimes.
But then he turned slightly, and the light caught his eyes, those silver-gray eyes inherited from Aunt Zia, and there he was again. My cousin. The boy who used to sneak desserts before dinner and drag me into backyard adventures that usually ended with both of us grounded.
He looked up, spotting me, and the faintest smile tugged at his lips. He lifted a finger in a silent request for a moment, finishing his call with efficient finality before ending the connection.
“You’re early,” he said, walking toward me.
“I like to be prepared,” I replied, dropping into one of the chairs and pulling out my tablet.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he sat across from me. “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“It is,” he said easily. “Trust me.”
We dove into the project updates, our conversation flowing naturally as we reviewed security integration strategies between Quantum’s cyber defense systems and Thorne’s corporate infrastructure. Working with Alexander had always been easy. Our thought processes aligned in ways that made collaboration feel almost effortless, ideas bouncing back and forth with mutual understanding that came from years of growing up side by side.
The meeting stretched longer than expected, eventually transitioning into a working lunch delivered to the conference room. We barely noticed time passing as we debated implementation timelines, occasionally slipping into teasing arguments that made Mara glance in through the glass with amused curiosity.
At one point, I reached across the table to grab his tablet, swatting his hand away when he tried to block me.
“You’re overcomplicating this,” I said, scrolling through his notes.
“I’m refining it,” he corrected.
“You’re making it unnecessarily complex,” I countered, nudging his shoulder lightly as I handed the tablet back.