Page 28 of Reckless Obsession

The lobby is quieter at this hour, but never empty. A security guard nods at me from behind the desk. The marble floors reflect the overhead lights in muted streaks, polished and cold.

My footsteps echo as I head towards the elevator and the doors part with a soft chime.

I step inside and press the button for the Executive floor. The doors slide shut, sealing me in mirrored steel. My reflection stares back at me. Tie still straight, jacket unwrinkled, expression composed.

The elevator hums as it ascends, and just then my phone vibrates in my hand. I answer without checking the screen.

“Mrs. Lawson.”

“I heard you won the case.”

Her voice remains controlled and clipped as always, but tonight, there’s something underlying it.

“I did.”

“I knew I could trust you,” she says, her words carrying a faint apprehension. “Thank you for battling this one.”

“It’s nothing,” I reply automatically.

“It’s not nothing,” she counters. “They’ve been fighting for that project for years. You walked into that courtroom and dismantled them like it was routine.”

I let out a quiet scoff despite myself.

Routine.

If only she knew.

She chuckles softly on the other end. We exchange a few more words—formalities, reassurances, future meetings—before the call ends just as the elevator slows.

The doors open, and silence greets me.

The reception desk is empty. Most of the office lights are off, leaving only the necessary ones casting the hallway in low amber pools and long, stretching shadows.

I walk toward my office and spot Grace near her desk, shrugging her coat over her shoulders. She looks up at the sound of my steps, surprise flickering across her face.

“Mr. Sinclair,” she says. “I didn’t expect you back tonight.”

“I forgot a file,” I tell her. Then, because I’m in an unusually calm mood, I add, “My mother is also at my place, and I’m avoiding her at all costs until she leaves.”

Grace laughs fondly. “You can’t escape her forever, sir.”

“I’m not trying to escape forever,” I reply, sliding my hands into my coat pockets. “Just for tonight.”

She shakes her head, amused.

“You should go home and rest, Grace,” I say, glancing at the empty desks around her. “You look exhausted. It seems you’re the only one still on this floor.”

She hesitates briefly, as if debating whether to argue, then nods. “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No.”

Another nod. “Goodnight, Mr. Sinclair.”

“Goodnight, Grace.”

Her heels click down the hallway and gradually fade away. Shortly after, the elevator dings softly as the doors slide shut.

I walk to my office door and unlock it.