Silvia sat rigidly at the head of the sleek glass conference table in the executive boardroom, her piercing red eyes scanning the quarterly projections with laser-like focus as harsh sunlight sliced through the towering floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sprawling city skyline below.
The room hummed with palpable tension under her iron command—twenty high-level executives in impeccably tailored suits shifting uneasily in their ergonomic chairs, notepads poised open but pens frozen mid-air in silent fear.
No one dared even sip water from the crystal pitchers sweating thick beads of condensation on the polished sideboard; she’d banned all drinks during meetings to ‘maintain undivided attention and eliminate distractions.’
Her alpha presence dominated the space thick and suffocating—pheromones saturating the sterile recycled air like an invisible fog, broad shoulders squared aggressively under a fitted charcoal blazer that hugged her powerful frame, brown hair pulled severe and tight into a low knot at the nape of her neck.
As CEO, perfection wasn’t optional or negotiable; she’d fired an employee just last month for daring to request marriage leave, citing ‘divided loyalties undermine performance.’
No holidays for birthdays or anniversaries—ever.
Vacations?
Utterly laughable in her world of relentless output.
A shrill ringtone shattered the heavy silence like exploding glass—cheerful pop melody clashing absurd and grating against the sterile bar charts glowing on the massive wall screen behind her.
Silvia’s head snapped up predatory fast, jaw clenching hard.
Who was the utter imbecile whose phone dared ring in her domain?
She’d specifically decreed no devices allowed in meetings—silenced or confiscated at the door without mercy.
“Who the hell thinks themselves above everyone else here in this room?” Silvia snarled low and lethal, her voice slicing through the air like a sharpened blade, red eyes raking the table murderous and unyielding.
Meeting members’ faces drained ashen pale in an instant, throats bobbing dry swallows they couldn’t voice aloud.
Their boss was a cruel alpha incarnate—they knew it bone-deep from horror stories whispered in break rooms.
She’d dock bonuses for breathing wrong.
So, how could they even think of bringing their phones to the meeting?
Sweat beaded visibly on foreheads under the fluorescent lights; one junior VP gripped his pen white-knuckled until the plastic creaked, another stared fixed at his folder like it held personal salvation from her wrath.
“I asked a direct question, didn’t I?
Answer me right now—who’s responsible?” Silvia pressed even colder, leaning forward with elbows planted firm on the glass table, manicured nails tapping a rhythmic threat that echoed like a countdown.
Silvia’s secretary, Max—a sturdy alpha in his thirties with gelled black hair slicked precise and a perpetually nervous tie knotted crooked—leaned in close to whisper urgent near her ear, his voice barely audible over his own pounding heart.
“Boss, respectfully speaking…
it’s your phone vibrating insistently in your pocket.
Third ring already—persistent little thing.
By the way, who changed your ringtone?”
Silvia froze rigid as stone, cheeks heating faint under her smooth skin with rare embarrassment.
The damn thing had rung three full times already, mocking her rule?
With an angry scowl twisting her sharp features into a storm, she yanked her phone from her blazer pocket—Lyra’s contact photo glowing taunting on the screen: that doe-eyed selfie snapped awkwardly from their forced wedding day.
Lyra?
What the fuck is this?
How dare that incompetent omega call during her sacred meeting hours—peak productivity?
Her thumb slammed the reject button hard once, twice.
It rang again persistent—same cheerful tune grating her nerves like sandpaper.
Cut.
Again.
Cut.
Ten infuriating times she stabbed reject with growing fury, each buzz stoking the fire hotter while executives averted their eyes like she’d spontaneously combust from rage. Read this novel at novelping(.)com for the best experience.
Finally, on the eleventh relentless ring, she answered with a venomous hiss into the receiver.
“What the hell, Lyra?!
How dare you call me like this during critical work hours—do you have any idea what you’re interrupting?!”
“Um…
are you someone who knows Lyra personally?
This is Assistant Director Ferda from the Disguised Hearts movie set,” came an unknown voice—middle-aged man, harried and clipped with exhaustion, not Lyra’s familiar soft whimper at all.
Silvia’s rage stuttered mid-breath, mind racing.
Did Lyra blab their marriage secret?
Expose it the fucking movie hacks?
“What exactly happened to her?
Speak clearly and fast—no games.”
“Well…
Lyra fainted hard right on set—collapsed face-first just when she arrived, out cold on the concrete.
We rushed her straight to St.
Gerta General emergency.
It would really help if you come as her listed emergency contact and take her home safely.”
“What the actual fuck?” Silvia’s grip tightened crushing on the phone, knuckles whitening bone-pale.
Did that utter idiot woman seriously drag her fevered, wrecked body to a goddamn movie set right after yesterday’s collapse and doctor’s orders?
Any faint guilt she’d nursed since her aunt’s slap?
Vanished clean and instant—replaced by fresh, boiling scorn.
“She fainted completely cold—paramedics called on site immediately.
She’s stable now in a room but needs someone for pickup and discharge.”
“I can’t come right this second—completely swamped here,” Silvia snapped flat and unyielding, her ice walls reforming thicker than ever.
“Tell her that she is an idiot.”
“But she was mumbling your name deliriously…
listed you as speed dial #1 in her phone.”
Speed dial #1?
Shock rippled genuine through her core—Lyra’s top emergency contact?
Her, after the ear-pull humiliation, the divorce threats, the daily scorn?
“Fine, whatever.
I’ll send someone reliable over immediately to handle it.” Click—hung up decisive and final.
She scanned the room sharp and commanding, executives still frozen like statues mid-panic.
“Meeting adjourned effective immediately.
Go do your actual work out there—hard results by end of day, no excuses.” Chairs scraped frantic in a mass exodus as they fled in sheer relief, doors banging shut behind the panicked herd.
Silvia swivelled her chair to face Max, who’d lingered cautious by the humming projector cart. Get faster updates on g.com.
“Max, explain something logical to me, okay?
Why the hell would someone keep my number on speed dial #1?
Me, of all people in her contacts?”
Max swallowed visible and nervous, loosening his tie with a quick tug.
“Well, boss…
your wife—er, Lyra—might see you that way.”
“Don’t you dare call her that—ever again!” Silvia cut him off venomous sharp, red eyes flashing lethal warning.
“Okay, okay, sorry boss—maybe Lyra views you as a truly important person in her isolated life.
Her only real anchor left standing.”
“What?
That’s completely absurd and laughable,” Silvia scoffed, but her tone wavered fraction.
“She has no one else left in this entire world except you and your parents, boss.
Your folks are off on that long Mediterranean vacation cruise right now, unreachable.
Leaves just you as the sole contact standing tall.”
“Tch!
I hate this whole messy entanglement—it’s a pure, unrelenting burden on me,” Silvia growled low, pacing slow to the window where the city blurred into gray haze below.
Max ventured even more careful, voice steady despite the fear sweat on his brow.
“Boss, plain truth?
She truly has absolutely no one else at all.
Beautiful omega too—what if something truly bad happens to her out there all alone and vulnerable?”
“Max, nothing catastrophic will happen to an idiot like her—she’s too damn stubborn and resilient to die easy, trust that.”
“Still though, boss…
you should ease up just a notch on the hardness.
Pretty sure she likes you deep down somewhere—speed dial #1 proves some attachment there.”
“Likes me?” Silvia’s face twisted into full disgust then, lip curling in a sneer as she spun back sharp on her heel.
“That weepy, incompetent little omega?
I have zero love, zero pity left for her—none whatsoever.
Send the company car right now with a driver.
And prep my full reschedule for the afternoon.”
Max nodded quick and efficient, already tapping his phone to escape further.
Silvia stared down at her own screen, Lyra’s photo lingering a beat too long.
Speed dial #1…
tch.
Utterly pathetic.
But a tiny flicker of something unnamed—gone fast as lightning.