Nick’s words didn’t land like a question.

They landed like a key sliding into a lock it had been specifically cut for.

You’ve been fucking him.

I felt my face betray me before I could even try to stop it. It was a physical freeze, the kind of total system failure that happens when the internal alarm is screaming "emergency" but the facial muscles haven’t received the memo on how to perform "calm." My eyes probably went too wide; my mouth probably went too tight. By the time I tried to smooth it over, it was already too late.

Nick saw it. A low, satisfied chuckle vibrated in his chest. It was a sound of pure, dark victory.

"You didn’t even try to deny it," he observed, his voice airy and light. He looked at me with a terrifying kind of clinical interest. The golden-boy smile flickered and then flattened into something colder. "Though it wouldn’t matter if you did. We both know it’s true."

I forced my lungs to work. I dragged air in and pushed it out, trying to find a version of myself that wasn’t currently shattering.

"Where did you hear that?" I asked. My voice was level, mostly because I was holding it there with both hands.

Nick ignored the question. He always ignored things he decided weren’t relevant to his current masterpiece. "It makes sense, really," he said, pivoting his body toward the window as if we were discussing the weather. "Everything makes sense now. You don’t have the skills for a position like this, Noah. You don’t have the qualifications. You certainly don’t have the talent to be sitting in a room with the architects of the city’s future."

He turned back to me, his expression settling into a look of pity that felt like a slap.

"So the question was always: what does Noah Bennett actually have to offer? What is his value?" He paused, letting the silence stretch until it was uncomfortable. "Apparently, the answer is just: a body that Cassian Wolfe finds temporarily useful. That’s it. That’s the whole explanation for your sudden career growth."

Then came the part he’d been saving. It was dressed in his usual polished language—delivered without him ever having to raise his voice. He started talking about my "orientation," his words flowing with a smooth, practiced cruelty. He mentioned how I couldn’t keep a girlfriend. How the "failure" of Lila and every girl before her had led me here.

To him, being with a man wasn’t a choice or an identity; it was a consolation prize. It was the only version of connection available to someone like me because, in Nick’s mind, no one worthwhile would ever want me for my mind or my soul.

I listened, my face a mask of controlled stone. But inside, something was breaking.

The homophobia I could categorize. I could put it in a box labeled Nick is a bigot and throw it away. But the other part... the part about being a body that was "temporarily useful"... that part found the existing bruise. It pressed down hard on the doubt I had been carrying since the very beginning.

Since the night of the contract. Since the transaction started.

I had been telling myself that what I had with Cassian had evolved. That it was becoming real. But what if it hadn’t? What if, in Cassian’s world, I was still just a functional item? A convenient place to put his hands at the end of the day?

I pushed the thought down. I filed it somewhere painful and locked the door. Not now. I couldn’t do this now.

"What are you planning to do with this information?" I asked, my voice flat and direct. It was the only question that actually mattered.

Nick’s expression shifted. He looked almost comfortable now, like a man settling into a favorite chair.

"Relax," he said, reaching out to pat my arm. I flinched, and he smiled. "I’m not going to say anything. I’m your brother, after all."

He paused, the smile turning smaller and sharper. "Not yet. Not unless it benefits me to do so."

He delivered it like he was reading the terms of service on an app. Pleasant. Reasonable. Lethal. "You understand how the world works, Noah. This is just... insurance."

I understood. I understood completely. In my head, every single traffic light was turning red at the same time.

"You’re pathetic," I said quietly. I kept my voice controlled, though I wanted to scream. "You have every single thing that was ever handed to you on a silver platter. Money, looks, the ’right’ career. And you’re still here, using your own brother as ammunition because that’s all you know how to do with people. You don’t have relationships, Nick. You just have leverage."

Nick didn’t seem insulted. If anything, he looked intrigued.

"I wonder," he mused, tilting his head as if he were imagining a painting. "I wonder what your face would look like if this actually got out. The media. The board. The headlines. Cassian Wolfe’s Executive Assistant in His Bed. I imagine it would be quite the story. The pictures they’d run of you... the things they’d write."

He smiled, a slow, dark thing. "Cassian is a giant. He would hardly be affected by a scandal like this. He’d just find someone else. But you, my dear brother... I’d really like to see that expression on your face when the world finds out what you really are."

A cold chill settled in my chest. It wasn’t just fear for my job. It was the realization that something real—something I had started to care about—was being held over a flame by a person who didn’t care if it burned.

"What’s going on?"

The voice came from behind me. It wasn’t loud, but it had the weight of a falling mountain.

I felt a wave of relief so strong it made me dizzy, but it was immediately followed by a sharp, stabbing pain. Being "rescued" by Cassian in the very second after being told I was just a body to him was its own kind of torture.

Nick turned around instantly. His professional, warm, familial smile was back in place before Cassian could even finish his sentence. "Just catching up with my brother, Mr. Wolfe," Nick said smoothly. "Just a bit of brotherly conversation before we head out."

Cassian didn’t even look at him. He kept his eyes locked on me. "I wasn’t asking you," he said, his voice flat. Then, to me: "Noah."

"It’s fine," I said, my voice sounding thin to my own ears. "He’s right. We were just talking."

Nick inserted himself back into the conversation with the grace of a snake. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot previously, Mr. Wolfe. I think we should be more friendly toward each other, since we’ll be working together on this project, after all."

He took a step forward, his eyes bright. "Actually, I was hoping to meet your... friend. The one from the meeting. The colorful one."

My brain clicked. Cyan.

Nick wanted to meet Cyan. The specific wrongness of that thought landed in my gut like a lead weight. If Nick got his hands on someone as erratic and unfiltered as Cyan, the damage would be catastrophic.

Cassian was already reading the situation. His posture didn’t change, but the air around him seemed to grow colder. "What business do you have with him?" It wasn’t a question; it was a demand wrapped in a threat.

"I simply wanted to apologize," Nick said, his voice dripping with fake sincerity. "For the incident. He was right to react the way he did. I was out of line, and I’d like to make it right."

I knew Nick. Nick had never once in his life meant an apology. He was fishing. He was looking for another weak point.

Cassian looked at him for a long, silent moment. I could almost see him taking Nick apart, piece by piece, and finding nothing of value. "He’s unavailable," Cassian said finally. "Have a good afternoon, Dr. Bennett."

It was a total dismissal. Nick received it with a nod, his smile never wavering. "Well, do send my regards to him. He left quite the impression, I must admit." He touched his jaw where Cyan had punched him, a mocking gesture that made my blood boil.

He turned and walked toward the door, his exit unhurried and smooth, as if he hadn’t just tried to dismantle my entire life.

The room was mostly empty now. The city was still visible through the glass, but the light was starting to fade into a bruised purple.

Cassian turned to me. "What did he say, Noah?"

His voice was quiet, direct. He was standing close enough that I could feel the heat of him, but for the first time, it didn’t make me feel safe. It made me feel exposed.

I had two choices.

Option one: Tell him everything. Tell him about the threat, the leverage, and the fact that Nick knew we were sleeping together. Tell him that Nick was planning to use me to get to him.

Option two: Lie. Because telling Cassian meant having the conversation I wasn’t ready for. It meant asking him if Nick was right. It meant asking if I was just a body to him. I didn’t want the answer today. Not in this room, while I still felt the cold of Nick’s words in my bones.

I looked up at Cassian and forced a small, practiced smile. "Nothing," I said. "He was just being Nick. I told you, he’s a thorn. It’s fine."

Cassian studied my face. I could see him reading me, his eyes searching for the crack in the wall. I knew he didn’t believe me. I knew he could see the tremor in my hands.

But he didn’t push. Not yet.

"Okay," he said softly.

We stood there for a moment in the silence of the boardroom. Between us was the city, the model of the hospital, and everything that had just been said, and everything that hadn’t. It sat in the air like a storm waiting to break, heavy and inevitable.

"Let’s go," Cassian said, touching the small of my back.

I followed him out, but as the elevator doors closed, all I could hear was Nick’s voice echoing in the small space.

Temporarily useful.