Chapter 13: Big Trouble

A gold-embossed business card slipped silently into his palm.

Caesar smiled, pocketed it like it was nothing, and gave her a wink.

Refuse?

Why would he do that?

Killing the warm, friendly atmosphere between coworkers wasn't something a manager with his generous heart would ever consider.

He was right in the middle of enjoying his personal paradise—surrounded by beautiful women competing for his attention—when a cool, composed voice cut clean through the heat of it all.

"Mr. Montague."

Lucy had appeared at the edge of the crowd without anyone noticing. Her stiff, by-the-book business suit put her in a completely different universe from the colorful, vibrant women around her.

"Ms. Elizabeth Williams would like to see you."

The name Elizabeth hit the room like a silencing spell.

The chatter died instantly. The air itself seemed to freeze.

That name carried absolute authority within the Williams Group—cold, untouchable, final.

Caesar set down his coffee cup, rose to his feet, and flashed the crowd a lazy, charming smile.

"When the queen calls, a man answers." He clapped his hands once, drawing every eye in the room. "But first—tonight. King's Club. Everyone. Open bar, on me. I don't want to see a single empty seat."

"YEAH——!"

"You're the best, boss!"

"Long live the boss!!"

The room erupted. Caesar strolled out of the conference room to a chorus of cheers that rattled the walls.

Lucy fell in silently behind him.

They'd barely turned the corner into an empty stretch of hallway when Caesar spun around without warning. His tall frame stepped directly into her path, blocking her completely.

Lucy stopped short and looked up at him.

He had a full head of height on her. Backlit by the corridor lights, his dark eyes held an unreadable glint of amusement.

"Was it you?" His voice was quiet. The question was anything but. "Did you report back to her?"

Lucy's expression didn't flicker. Not even her lashes moved.

"Yes. It was me."

Caesar's eyes went wide.

Over the next two seconds, his face ran through a full performance—shock, disbelief, and deep, wounded betrayal—each transition smoother than the last. Any award-winning actor would've been humbled.

He pressed one hand dramatically to his chest.

"I thought we had something. I trusted you." His voice cracked with theatrical anguish. "And you stabbed me in the back?"

Lucy's gaze dropped slightly. Her voice stayed flat and even. "One of the tasks Ms. Williams assigned me is to monitor your activity within the company. This is my responsibility, Mr. Montague."

Caesar stared at her for two full seconds.

Then the grief vanished from his face like it had never existed.

He snapped his fingers.

"Well done." A grin broke across his face. "I like honest people."

The very tip of Lucy's eyebrow moved—barely, almost imperceptibly.

Caesar tilted his head and studied her with genuine interest.

"That said, I can't let the betrayal go unpunished." His tone turned playful. "So I've decided to give you a new assignment."

Lucy gave a slight, composed bow. "At your discretion, sir."

The corner of Caesar's mouth curved with satisfaction.

"Everyone who sided with Brian." His voice dropped a register, smooth and cold as polished steel. "All of them. Terminated. No exceptions."

Lucy's head snapped up. For the first time, something shifted behind those steady eyes.

"...I'm sorry?"

Caesar's smirk carried the lazy ease of a cat toying with its prey. "You didn't actually think I was some spineless pushover, did you?"

There was a knowing calm in his voice—the kind that came from seeing every angle before anyone else even knew the board was set.

"That's why I'm the general manager and you're the secretary." He stepped forward, and the air between them thickened. "Consider this your first free lesson, courtesy of your boss."

Lucy held her breath and waited.

Caesar's voice was almost casual. Each word landed like a blade.

"Betrayal has a price. No exceptions. Ever."

A beat of silence. Then Lucy did something she almost never did—she pushed back.

"Why not announce it yourself?" she asked. "Wouldn't a direct declaration carry more weight? Wouldn't it reinforce your authority?"

Caesar bent down.

That flawless face dropped directly in front of hers—close enough that she could see her own reflection in the depths of his eyes.

Lucy's breath caught. Her body locked up instinctively.

His breath carried the faint, bitter trace of coffee as it ghosted across her cheek.

"Look at this face." He tapped his own cheekbone with one finger. "Clearly, it's the face of a good man."

"How could I possibly be the one to do something so ruthless?" He blinked with exaggerated innocence. "My greatest flaw has always been that I'm too soft-hearted. Especially when it comes to making things difficult for beautiful women."

"So." He straightened up and gave her shoulder a friendly pat. "I'm handing this unpleasant task over to you."

"I believe in you. Go get 'em."

Lucy stood still and watched his back as he turned and walked away.

She drew a slow breath and let her expression settle back into its default calm.

"Understood. I'll handle it immediately."

Down the corridor, Caesar raised a hand in a careless wave, already humming—some strange, rhythmic tune from a distant place that no one around him would ever recognize:

"From our ranks the heroes rise…"

"Time erodes the warrior's eyes…"

"Crown and glory fade to gray…"

"Tube and no tube!"

Humming his mysterious, untranslatable anthem, he arrived at Elizabeth's office door.

"Well, well." Elizabeth's voice greeted him before he'd even fully stepped inside—laced with unmistakable, ice-cold contempt. "If it isn't the PR department's brand-new rising star. Mr. Montague."

Caesar didn't miss a beat. He pushed through the door, crossed the room in long, unhurried strides, and dropped onto the sofa in the sitting area like he owned it. Both legs swung up onto the coffee table. The picture of arrogance.

"Latte would be great."

Emily Rivera, the new secretary standing in the corner clutching a folder, looked like she'd just been asked to defuse a bomb. She shot a desperate glance at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth pulled in a slow breath and gave Emily a calm, reassuring look.

"You can go."

Emily fled, folder pressed to her chest, pulling the door shut behind her with quiet, grateful care.

The office sealed itself around the two of them.

Elizabeth planted both hands on her desk and leaned forward, staring down at the man draped across her sofa like a pile of laundry. The crease between her brows was deep enough to leave a mark.

"Sit up straight." The words came through clenched teeth. "This is my office."

Caesar responded by shifting into an even more comfortable position and letting out a small, contented sigh.

This insufferable man had been pushing every boundary she had since the moment she laid eyes on him.

Then—without a word of warning—he reached over, picked up her personal bone-china coffee cup from the desk, and under her absolute I-will-end-you glare, poured himself a leisurely cup.

"So." He took a slow sip. Completely unbothered. "What's the emergency, Your Majesty? I'm a busy man."

Elizabeth almost laughed out of sheer exasperation.

"Do you have any idea who Brian is?" she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You fired him on your first day. Do you understand what kind of mess you've just dropped in my lap? His brother-in-law is the chief of police for this entire district. He's got connections running through the fire department, the tax bureau—the works. You've got nothing to say for yourself?"

Caesar held the coffee cup and regarded her beautiful, frost-covered face.

He gave it what appeared to be genuine consideration.

"Hm... now that you mention it." His expression shifted, turning unexpectedly serious. "There is actually something urgent I need to report to you."