Page 103 of The Rules
The stillness isn't peaceful. It'swrong.
She checks her phone. No all-staff email. No calendar change. Nothing to explain this ghost town. The silence isn’t just strange—it’s wrong.
The hair on the back of her neck prickles. Her heels click softer now—cautious. Every door she passes feels like it's watching her.
No phones ringing. No keyboards clacking. Just… silence. Heavy. Hollow.
She glances at her watch. 8:17 AM. Everyone should be here.
Her heels echo too loudly as she moves deeper into the firm, the usual buzz replaced by a stillness that makes her chest tighten.
Empty desk. Empty desk. Empty desk.
Her eyes flick toward the conference room. Also empty.
Where the hell is everyone?
Her heart skips. Maybe—just maybe—Ben is in.
That irrational sliver of hope pushes her feet forward.
Then she sees it.
His door.
Not shut. Not open. Just slightly ajar. Like an afterthought. Like bait.
She hesitated, one hand hovering just above the polished handle. The silence was loud here, pulsing like static in her ears. For one absurd moment, she thought about turning around and pretending she never came in today. But it was too late for pretending.
She doesn't want to go in.
But she does.
And there he is.
Sitting behind his desk. Perfect posture. Hands folded. Waiting.
Watching.
The moment their eyes meet, the atmosphere shifts—instant and electric. Like walking into a storm that hasn’t broken yet.
Ben doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
But his gaze… it pins her. Not hungry. Not curious.
Just surgical.
"Morning," she says, her voice even, but her throat tight.
Nothing.
Just that stare. Unblinking. Measuring.
Like a man already two steps past deciding.
