Chapter 51 Silence
Rowan
I don’t call Violet into my office because I’m angry.
That alone should tell me something.
I’m standing by the window when she knocks, one hand still on the glass like I expect the city to answer me back. The lobby looks normal again. Too normal. Like nothing happened.
“Come in,” I say.
She steps inside and closes the door behind her without being told. That’s new. Or maybe I just notice it now.
She looks fine at a glance. Hair neat. Expression calm. Same posture she always wears like armor. But there’s something tight behind her eyes, like she’s still replaying the moment.
I turn away from the window and lean back against my desk. I don’t sit. Sitting feels too distant.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods immediately. “Yeah.”
Too fast.
I tilt my head. “You sure?”
“Yes,” she says again, firmer, like she’s convincing herself more than me.
I watch her for a second. Let the silence do some work.
“Violet,” I say, not sharp, just steady. “Are you actually okay?”
She exhales, shoulders dropping just a hair. “I’m… mostly okay.”
That’s better.
“Mostly how?” I ask.
She hesitates, eyes drifting to the side of the room. “It was just… unsettling.”
“Unsettling how?” I press.
She lets out a breath through her nose, half laugh, half frustration. “Because she knew things she shouldn’t.”
There it is.
I nod. “Yeah. She did.”
Violet looks back at me. “My system isn’t written down. I don’t train anyone on it. It’s just how I do things. The order. The timing. The way I track overlaps.”
“I know,” I say.
“And that fake draft,” she continues, pacing a step without realizing it. “It was wrong, but it was wrong in a way that meant someone understood what the real one should look like.”
Her jaw tightens. “That means someone’s watching me. Or was.”
I push off the desk and cross my arms. “Or they think they’re clever.”
She gives me a look. “That wasn’t clever. That was practiced.”
I don’t argue. She’s right.
“I don’t like that someone could sit there and study me,” she adds quietly. “I don’t like that they tried to see if I’d flinch.”
My jaw clenches before I can stop it. “You didn’t.”
Her mouth twitches. “No.”
“Good,” I say. “Because that’s exactly what they wanted.”
She stops pacing and looks at me again. “You really think this is someone internal?”
“I think it could be,” I say honestly. “Or someone who used to be. Or someone who had access for longer than they should’ve.”
“Avery,” she says, not accusing. Just stating.
“Possibly,” I admit. “Possibly not.”
She folds her arms, hugging herself without realizing it. “I hate that I don’t know which is worse.”
I study her for a second, then say, “You don’t have to solve this.”
She snorts softly. “I’m not good at not solving things.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say.
That earns me a look. Not annoyed. Just… seen.
I soften my voice. “Legal’s already pulling entry logs. Security’s reviewing footage. That journalist didn’t walk in with that information by accident.”
Her shoulders tense again. “And if it was someone here?”
“Then they’ll be dealt with,” I say. “Quietly or loudly, depending on how stupid they were.”
She lets out a breath. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“For me?” I shrug. “It is.”
That makes her huff a weak laugh despite herself. “Must be nice.”
I step closer, stopping a respectful distance away. “You did everything right today.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly,” I say. “That’s harder than it looks.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Most people panic. Or try to explain. Or overcorrect. You didn’t give her anything.”
She considers that. “She hated that.”
I smirk slightly. “Good.”
Silence settles again, but this one isn’t heavy. It’s… thoughtful.
Then she says, quieter, “It just bothered me that she was watching me work. Like I was some kind of exhibit.”
Something sharp twists in my chest.
I don’t think about it. I just move.
I step closer and reach out, resting my hand on her shoulder. Not gripping. Not pulling. Just there.
She freezes.
I freeze too, the second my hand makes contact.
I don’t do this. Not with employees. Not with anyone unless I know exactly what it means.
But it feels right. Like grounding something that was starting to fray.
“You’re not an exhibit,” I say. “You’re not disposable. And you’re not unprotected.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide with surprise. “Rowan—”
“It’s handled,” I say gently. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Her expression shifts. The tension eases just a little.
Then she smiles.
Not polite. Not professional.
Real.
Soft.
It hits me like a punch to the chest.
For half a second, the room tilts. Lightheaded. Like my body forgot how to process something that isn’t control or conflict.
I pull my hand back immediately and clear my throat, turning away like I’ve suddenly remembered something very important on my desk.
“Anyway,” I say, too quickly. “Just… stay sharp. If anything feels off, you come to me. Before legal. Before security.”
She recovers faster than I do. “You want me to report vibes now?”
I glance at her. “I want you to trust your instincts.”
Her mouth curves again. Smaller this time. “Okay.”
I nod toward the door. “Go back out there. The place falls apart without you.”
“That’s concerning,” she says dryly.
“Yet accurate,” I reply.
She reaches for the handle, then pauses. “Rowan?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” she says, softer now.
I meet her gaze. “You don’t need to thank me.”
She studies my face, like she’s trying to figure out if that’s true.
Then she nods once and leaves.
The door closes behind her.
I stay where I am for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the space she occupied.
Because I touched her shoulder.
Because she smiled like she wasn’t bracing for impact.
And because I didn’t do it to calm her down.
I did it because the idea of someone trying to corner her makes my blood boil.
And that is a problem I’m going to have to deal with.