The car stops in front of Wuchen headquarters.

Shen Rui is already waiting by the door, and when he opens it, I’m still processing the fact that Bael planned this.

That he arranged for me to be brought here instead of home.

"Young Master," Shen Rui greets me with a slight bow.

I step out, following him toward the entrance.

Employees bow as we pass through the lobby, some with respect in their eyes, some with that careful professional neutrality, but all of them acknowledging me.

It’s not new.

They’ve done this every time I’ve been here.

But today it feels different somehow.

Maybe because I know Bael’s waiting for me upstairs.

Maybe because he specifically arranged for me to come here right after the submission.

The elevator ride up is quiet.

Just Shen Rui and me, watching the numbers climb.

The doors open onto the executive floor and Shen Rui leads me straight to Bael’s office, those imposing double doors at the end of the hall that always make the space feel more significant than it probably is.

He opens one door.

"Mr. Bael is currently in a meeting," he says. "He asked that you wait for him here. The meeting should conclude in approximately twenty minutes."

I nod and step inside.

The office is exactly as I remember, massive windows overlooking the city, minimalist furniture, everything arranged with that precise efficiency that screams Bael.

Shen Rui moves to the small fridge in the corner, pulling out a plate of cut fruit.

He sets it on the coffee table in front of the leather couch.

"Please make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, just call me, Sir."

Then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut and I’m alone.

I stand there for a moment, looking around.

Why did Bael want me here?

He could have just let me go home.

Could have called me later to ask how the submission went.

Instead he arranged for me to be brought straight to his office to... what?

Wait for him?

See him sooner?

I walk to the windows because standing in the middle of the room feels awkward.

The view is impressive, the entire city spread out below like something manageable, something that can be controlled with the right decisions.

This is what Bael sees every day.

No wonder he approaches everything like it’s solvable.

From up here, it probably is.

I turn back to the room and my eyes land on his desk.

Dark wood, perfectly organized, just a laptop and a few files arranged with mathematical precision.

The chair behind it is leather.

Expensive.

Imposing.

I shouldn’t.

But I’m curious.

What does it feel like to sit there?

To see the room from Bael’s perspective?

I walk over, running my hand along the edge of the desk.

Smooth, cool under my palm.

Then I’m sitting down before I can talk myself out of it.

Oh.

The view is completely different from here.

The entire office laid out in front of me, the sitting area, the windows, the door.

Everything visible, everything under control.

I lean back slightly, testing the chair.

It’s comfortable.

Supportive.

The kind of chair that makes you feel capable just by sitting in it.

I pick up the pen sitting on the desk, heavy, perfectly balanced, the kind of thing that probably costs more than it should.

Hold it the way I’ve seen Bael hold pens when he’s working, thumb and forefinger positioned just so.

"The quarterly projections are acceptable," I say to the empty room, doing my best Bael impression. "But efficiency can be optimized."

I pause.

Try to make my expression as controlled and intimidating as his.

"Shen Rui, reschedule the morning meeting. It’s inefficient."

This is stupid.

I’m sitting in Bael’s chair doing a terrible impression of Bael talking to nobody.

What am I, a child?

I set the pen down and stand up quickly, feeling ridiculous.

Back to the couch.

That’s where normal people wait.

I grab a strawberry from the plate and eat it while pulling out my phone.

Eighteen minutes left.

Eighteen minutes until Bael gets back and I find out why he wanted me here.

The strawberry is sweet.

Perfectly ripe.

I take another one and settle back against the couch, trying to look casual.

Trying not to think too hard about the fact that I’m waiting for someone I literally saw this morning.

We live together.

We had breakfast together.

We were in the same car two hours ago.

And yet here I am, waiting to see him again like it’s some kind of event.

Pathetic.

I check my phone again.

Still eighteen minutes.

Time is moving too slowly.

My leg starts bouncing, not from nerves, just restless energy, anticipation I don’t want to examine too closely.

I eat another strawberry.

Check my phone.

Seventeen minutes.

This is going to be the longest seventeen minutes of my life.

I stand up without deciding to.

Walk back toward the desk.

The chair is right there.

The view from behind it is so much better than from the couch.

I sit down again.

This time I bring the strawberry plate with me because if I’m going to be ridiculous about this, I might as well commit fully.

I lean back, take another strawberry, let myself enjoy the absurdity of sitting in Bael Wuchen’s chair like I have any right to be here.

The city sprawls below the windows.

The office stretches out in front of me.

From this angle, I can almost understand what it’s like to be him.

In control.

Certain about everything.

Powerful in a way that doesn’t need to announce itself.

Almost.

I eat the strawberry slowly, savoring it.

Maybe I should practice my Bael impression more.

Get it right this time.

I pick up the pen again, hold it properly, try to channel that controlled energy he always has.

"Shen Rui," I say in my best approximation of Bael’s voice, which is probably still terrible. "Clear my afternoon schedule. I have more important matters to attend to."

I pause.

Try to make my face as expressionless as his usually is.

"And bring me..." I glance at the strawberry plate. "Fruit. Immediately."

Okay, that one was just for me.

I’m definitely losing my mind.

Sitting here doing Bael impressions to an empty office while eating his strawberries.

This is what my life has become.

I should go back to the couch.

Should stop being weird about this.

But the chair is comfortable and the view is good and I still have... I check my phone... fourteen minutes until Bael gets back.

Fourteen minutes.

I can sit here for fourteen minutes.

It’s fine.

Totally normal.

I lean back further, really settling in now.

Take another strawberry.

Try to imagine what it’s like to make decisions from this chair.

Decisions that affect hundreds of employees, millions in revenue, entire business strategies.

Does it feel heavy?

Or does Bael just make it look easy because he’s Bael and everything looks easy when he does it?

I’m mid-bite on another strawberry when the door opens.

My heart stops.

I freeze completely.

Strawberry halfway to my mouth, sitting in Bael’s chair like I own the place, strawberry plate on his desk like I’ve moved in.

Bael walks through the door.

Stops when he sees me.

Looks at me, in his chair, eating strawberries, clearly having made myself completely at home in his personal space.

We stare at each other.

His expression is unreadable... not angry, not amused, just... something I can’t quite identify.

Surprise, maybe?

Like he genuinely wasn’t expecting to find me here.

Behind his desk.

In his chair.

With his strawberries.

Oh god.

I lower the strawberry slowly, very aware of how completely ridiculous I must look.

"I was just..." I start.

Stop.

Because what?

What explanation exists for this that doesn’t sound insane?

I was just sitting in your chair because I was curious?

I was just pretending to be you for fun?

I was just eating strawberries at your desk because I got bored waiting?

His eyebrow rises.

Just slightly.

But enough that I know he’s waiting for me to finish that sentence.

Waiting for me to explain what exactly I’m doing sitting behind his desk like I’m auditioning to replace him.

Shit.