Chapter 85 up
“We have no room for mistakes in this project.”
Nyla’s voice cut cleanly through the low murmur filling the meeting room on the twenty-first floor. Her palm pressed firmly against the glass table as she leaned forward, posture confident, eyes sweeping across every face around her—division managers, analysts, and the client’s representatives seated neatly with serious expressions. Behind her, the large screen displayed the presentation title in bold letters:
PROJECT AURORA — REGIONAL EXPANSION STRATEGY
“The numbers you see on this slide,” Nyla continued, her tone steady and controlled, “are not merely projections. They are commitments. And commitment always comes with risk.”
The room fell silent. Every ounce of attention was fixed on her.
Vincent, seated on the right side of the room, crossed his arms. His gaze followed Nyla closely, a mixture of pride and caution flickering in his eyes. He knew exactly how massive this project was. Aurora was not just another assignment—it was a test of trust. If it succeeded, Nyla’s name would be permanently cemented as one of the company’s core pillars. If it failed… he refused to imagine that outcome.
“Our timeline is tight,” Nyla went on, clicking the remote as the slide changed. Graphs rose and dipped, market data appeared, expansion zones highlighted in sharp color. “But that is precisely why we must be precise. No impulsive decisions. No shortcuts. And no drama.”
The last word slipped out with a faint edge, more personal than she had intended.
One of the client’s directors—a middle-aged man in a gray suit—raised his hand. “We appreciate your approach, Ms. Nyla. However, as we mentioned previously, our board has decided to add one supporting element to the project.”
Nyla nodded smoothly, professional to the core. “Of course. What kind of supporting element?”
“We have appointed an external consultant,” the man replied. “To ensure broader perspective and additional risk mitigation.”
A few heads turned. Vincent straightened in his seat.
“All right,” Nyla said. “Name and scope of involvement?”
The man offered a thin smile. “I’ll put it on the screen.”
The room lights dimmed slightly. The slide changed.
And there it was.
EXTERNAL CONSULTANT: SELENA R.
Time seemed to freeze.
Nyla didn’t react immediately. Her body locked in place, still standing at the head of the table, the remote clenched lightly in her hand. Her breath stalled for half a second—long enough for memories to surge forward without permission.
Selena.
The name was not just a sequence of letters. It was the echo of a past that had once shattered Nyla’s sense of calm. A smile that looked warm but concealed intent. Sweet words that always ended in traps. Wounds that never truly healed—only buried neatly beneath composure and success.
Across the room, Vincent reacted faster. His eyes widened for a brief moment before his jaw tightened. He turned toward Nyla, searching her face for any sign—anger, shock, anything. But Nyla remained still.
Too still.
Whispers began to ripple through the room. Colleagues exchanged glances, trying to read the sudden tension that had crept into the air.
“I’ve heard that name before,” someone murmured.
“Isn’t she a crisis consultant?” another whispered back.
Nyla finally blinked. Once. Twice. She drew in a slow breath, straightened her shoulders, and turned fully toward the room.
“All right,” she said. Her voice sounded normal—almost unnervingly so. “Thank you for the information.”
Vincent leaned forward. “Nyla—”
She raised one hand slightly, a subtle signal for him to stop. Her gaze never wavered.
“Will this consultant be directly involved in decision-making?” Nyla asked the client representative.
“As a strategic advisor,” the man answered. “No veto power, but she will provide written recommendations.”
Nyla nodded. “Understood. As long as the authority structure remains clear, we can adjust.”
She emphasized the word we.
The meeting continued, but the atmosphere had shifted. Slide after slide was presented, figures analyzed, strategies outlined—but the focus in the room had fractured. Nyla explained everything flawlessly, as though that name had never appeared. Yet inside her mind, something had cracked.
She knew Selena’s presence was not a coincidence.
When the meeting finally adjourned and people began gathering their belongings, Nyla noticed how cold her palms felt. She closed her laptop with precise movements, then turned—
—and found herself face-to-face with Vincent.
“We need to talk,” she said quietly, the sharpness beneath her calm unmistakable.
Vincent nodded. “Now.”
They exited the meeting room, walking through the glass corridor overlooking the city below. The midday sky was bright, almost cruelly beautiful, in contrast with the pressure building in Nyla’s chest.
“What do you know?” Vincent asked bluntly.
Nyla stopped walking. She stared straight ahead instead of looking at him. “Enough to know this wasn’t accidental.”
“She deliberately inserted herself into your project,” Vincent said. “I can ask the client to reconsider—”
“No.” Nyla finally turned to face him. Her gaze was firm, but beneath it trembled emotion she was holding tightly in check. “Don’t do anything yet.”
“Nyla, she—”
“I know exactly who she is,” Nyla cut in. “And that’s precisely why we cannot panic.”
Vincent fell silent. He saw something in her expression—not fear, but heightened alertness. Like someone who had fallen into the same abyss once before and now stood at its edge again, fully aware of how deep it went.
“Are you okay?” he asked more gently.
Nyla gave a faint smile. One that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose my balance.”
Vincent exhaled slowly. “She’s calculated. She won’t attack head-on.”
“I know,” Nyla replied. “That’s what makes her dangerous.”