Nowhere To Run From The Cold-Hearted CEO's Obsession

In the stillness that followed, the office felt almost frozen.

Grayson sat rigidly on the sofa, his gaze locked on the seat where Aurora had just been, a shadow darkening his expression. The cup of coffee he'd carefully brewed for her sat untouched, the steam long gone. Her distant demeanor toward him had cut sharper than frost, leaving a chill clinging to the air.

Just then, Grayson's assistant returned to the office, lowering his voice. "Mr. Rockefeller, I have just seen Miss Flynn and Mr. Saunders off. Do we still need to follow up on the contract?"

Grayson's eyes lingered on the abandoned cup, a fleeting emotion flickering beneath his calm exterior. The moment passed, leaving only the glacial mask he wore so well. After a beat, his voice came low and restrained. "Leave it for now."

...

As the car eased into motion, Marc drummed his index finger against the console in front of Aurora, irritation sharpening his tone. "Aurora, what the hell is wrong with you? It's only some car fire reports—nothing worth stressing over. Why did you have to pick a fight with Mr. Rockefeller?"

Aurora's gaze fell to her shoes, voice quiet but firm. "When we report, we owe the truth to the public. We must stay fair and objective. What you consider trivial might be the downfall of a company, or even a family."

A flicker of irritation crossed Marc's face. His brows knit as he snapped, "If you care that much about being fair, you should've gone to law school! Be a judge, a prosecutor—anything but a news anchor!"

Aurora said nothing, shoulders drooping as she dropped her gaze.

Marc, frustrated by her silence, flung his hand in the air with a sharp gesture. "Aurora, you're being utterly foolish! We're talking about a two-year sponsorship contract worth fifty million! That's no small matter! You either go make things right with Mr. Rockefeller yourself, or you find another sponsor fast. Otherwise, the hosting spot for this year's gala of the Financial Beacon will go to Lana! She's new, but she knows how to play the game—and the station favors people who deliver."

The Financial Beacon was the crown jewel of the financial channel, a program every anchor dreamed of hosting. Aurora had held that honor three years in a row, but with Lana's arrival, her grip on the spot had loosened.

Online discussions buzzed with speculation, many insisting that Lana would inevitably claim the role and outshine Aurora as the new rising star.

Six months earlier, shortly after her arrival, Lana had cornered Aurora in the restroom, smugly declaring that the station manager planned to mold her into "the next Aurora." Her hunger for fame had never been subtle.

Aurora responded with a faint, composed smile, her voice steady, "Alright, I understand."

When they returned to the station, Marc stormed back into his office, the door banging shut behind him with a sharp thud that made heads turn across the space.

Murmurs rippled through the open floor, but no one dared ask.

Five minutes later, the door cracked open. Marc's voice came out low but curt. "Lana, get in."

Lana rose at once, smoothing her skirt and gliding toward his office with a practiced smile.

Across the room, the director of her program, Sylvie Lawson, rolled her chair over to Aurora's desk, curiosity lighting her eyes. "Aurora, what on earth happened? Marc looked perfectly cheerful when you two left this morning. What was it that set him off?"

Aurora didn't glance up from the financial brief she was preparing, her tone even. "It's off."

Confusion flickered briefly in Sylvie's gaze. "What do you mean, off?"

"The two-year sponsorship deal," Aurora replied simply, flipping a page.

Shock rippled through Sylvie's gaze, her eyes stretching wide. "You've got to be kidding me, Aurora! You actually turned down a deal that massive?"

A wry smile touched Aurora's lips.

Lana strutted out of Marc's office, her grin wide and brimming with triumph. She headed straight for Aurora, waving her interview notebook like a trophy. "Aurora, you won't believe it. Thanks to you, Mr. Saunders just handed me the script for the exclusive interview with that economics guru."

Aurora's face remained composed, her tone cool as she offered a polite word of congratulations.

With a toss of her hair, Lana sauntered back to her desk. A moment later, her voice rang out across the office. "Aurora!"

Aurora turned from her computer, meeting Lana's gleaming eyes across the partition.

After a heartbeat of scrutiny, Lana couldn't hold back a sharp, delighted laugh. "Mr. Saunders said if nothing goes wrong when I host this year's Financial Beacon gala, I'll be the next you." She gave a dramatic shrug, eyes alight with smugness. "And honestly? Doesn't sound that difficult."

Her words sliced through the office like a bell. Heads lifted, brows furrowed. The senior staff exchanged looks of quiet contempt—none of them had ever seen a newcomer so brazenly announce her intent to steal a colleague's place.

Aurora merely regarded Lana with steady composure, a faint, courteous smile softening her expression. "Well, good luck with the hosting."

Lana, of course, doubted the sincerity behind those words. Before parting, she couldn't resist tossing out one last jab—remarking how foolish it had been for Aurora to reject Grayson's generous offer just to cling to her so-called ethics.

Aurora's face remained unreadable; she refused to dignify the comment with a response.

When the workday finally ended, Aurora's friend, Chloe Morgan—fresh off an exhausting outdoor assignment—invited Aurora to unwind at a quiet lounge bar.

The moment their cocktails arrived, Chloe launched into a lively tirade about Lana's shameless antics, her exaggerated indignation making Aurora burst into laughter.

"Alright, alright. Have a drink before you lose your voice." Aurora slid the cocktail toward Chloe, who tipped back the glass and drained the sapphire-blue drink in a single gulp.

Chloe's gaze sharpened as it landed on Aurora's calm expression. "Let me guess—Grayson's giving you a hard time again, isn't he?

"Not exactly," Aurora replied in a flat tone.

Chloe's indignation flared, her voice rising with every word. "He's the absolute worst! Cold-hearted as ever! Back then, he dumped you without an explanation—and now he just shows up, disrupting your peace. Who the hell does he think he is?"

She thrust a dart into Aurora's hand and nodded toward the bullseye pinned to the wall. "Go on, aim for the center. Pretend it's Grayson's smug face and let it fly. That scumbag deserves every hit."

Aurora narrowed her eyes and raised her arm, focusing on the target. But just as she released the dart, someone brushed past, jarring her elbow. The dart veered off course—straight into the sleeve of a sharply tailored suit.

The owner turned, and the air thickened. Grayson stood there, expression dark as storm clouds, clearly having caught every scathing word.

Chloe froze mid-breath and then stepped forward, shielding Aurora instinctively. "Grayson, don't you dare take this out on Aurora," she warned, voice fierce despite her nerves. "Aim whatever you want to do at me. Just leave her alone."