Page 146 of The Rules
The meeting room felt too quiet. Too controlled. And still, his thoughts lingered in the shadow of that night—until Joshua spoke again.
"Oh, and Winters handled the witness meeting today for the Sterling case. She'll file the report herself."
Ben stilled.
The pen in his hand froze mid-stroke. His grip didn’t shift, but something in his entire posture changed—sharp, alert,lethal.
"Really?" he asked, voice cool, measured. Carved from stone. "She handled it?"
Not requested. Not cleared. Not approved.
Handled.
Joshua nodded, oblivious to the subtle crack in the atmosphere. "Yeah, she said she had it covered. Spent all morning on it."
All morning. No message. No heads-up. No permission.
Ben exhaled slowly and set the pen down with the kind of careful control that warned—if anything snapped next, it wouldn’t be the pen.
She’d broken a rule.
And worse—she’d done it like she thought he wouldn’t notice.
"Anything else I should know?" Ben asked, his tone perfectly controlled despite the cold fury building beneath his skin.
Josh glanced up, finally sensing something off. His brow furrowed slightly. "No, that's everything. Is there a problem with Winters taking the meeting?"
Ben's lips curved into something that resembled a smile but held no warmth. "Not at all. Thank you for the update."
She had deliberately gone behind his back. Had broken one of his most explicit rules. Had thought she could get away with it.
Ben stalked down the hallway, his pace measured, each step a controlled statement of intent. The office buzzed around him, but he registered none of it—not the greetings, not the questions, not the subtle shift in atmosphere as associates scrambled out of his path.
His focus had narrowed to a single point: Katherine Winters and her deliberate defiance.
He'd given her rules. Clear, explicit boundaries. And she'd chosen to break them, thinking he wouldn't notice. Thinking she could manipulate the situation and slip through the cracks of his control.
The thought made something dark coil in his chest. Not just anger—something deeper.
When he reached her office, he didn't knock. Didn't announce himself. Just turned the handle and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click that echoed in the sudden silence.
She didn't flinch when he walked in.
Because she was expecting him.
Ben's expression tightened as he observed her—the careful way she continued writing, the deliberate calm in her posture. She'd known he would come. Had calculated this entire scenario, right down to her unbothered expression when she finally looked up.
Her gaze met his—steady, unreadable. No guilt. No apology. Just that maddening composure he wanted to shatter one controlled breath at a time.
He didn’t say hello. Didn’t ask how her day went.
"Tell me what you did," Ben said, voice low and lethal.
The air changed—tightened—sharp and heavy, as if the walls themselves were bracing for impact. He remained by the door, unmoving, his presence a live wire drawn taut across the room.
He studied her. Cold. Controlled. Coiled.
Let her talk. Let her reach for whatever thread of justification she thought she had.
