Chapter 185 - 184 Mr. Wolfe Is in a Bad Mood

( EMILY )

The brass handle turns. The metal latch clicks against the strike plate. I pull the thick white duvet completely over my head, burying my face deep into the down pillows. The cotton fabric restricts my oxygen, making the air immediately warm and stifling, but I do not move a single muscle.

Footsteps cross the wool rug. The heavy, measured tread of expensive leather shoes approaches the center of the room. He stops. He stands there in the dark.

My lungs burn for a deep breath. I keep my respiratory rate shallow and perfectly even. I wait for the inevitable opening of the bathroom door.

The hinges groan. The solid oak door shuts with a thud.

I throw the duvet off my face, dragging in a massive gulp of the cold, conditioned air pouring from the ceiling vents. My hands shake slightly as I reach for the top drawer of my bedside table.

I pull out two small cylinders of orange foam. I roll them tightly between my index finger and thumb, slipping them deep into my ear canals. The ambient noise of the estate fades into a thick, muffled silence. Next, I grab a heavy silk eye mask. I stretch the elastic band over my head, settling the smooth fabric securely over my eyes. Plunged into total darkness and absolute silence, the crushing, oppressive atmosphere he brings into the room finally begins to dissipate.

These are the essential tools of a marital cold war. If I cannot see him, and I cannot hear him, he cannot intrude upon my fragile peace. I roll onto my right side, wrapping the blankets tight around my shoulders, and force my body to relax into the mattress.

( ALISTAIR )

The freezing water hits the slate tiles. I stand directly under the spray, letting the brutal temperature shock my system. It does absolutely nothing to clear the thick, heavy fog filling the back of my skull.

I grip the marble shelf, bowing my head. Water runs down my spine. My eyes burn like they are packed with crushed glass. I have not slept in forty-eight hours. Two consecutive days and nights of staring at digital blueprints in the Ultimate Power Laboratory, followed by lying awake on the extreme edge of the king-sized mattress, listening to the slow, steady breathing of the woman avoiding me.

I turn the brass valve, shutting off the water. I grab a thick towel, dragging it roughly across my face.

The chronic insomnia is tearing my nervous system to shreds. Without the valerian root remedy, the pressure of running a global conglomerate compounds into a physical weight bearing down on my collarbone.

I step out of the bathroom. The bedroom is pitch black. The glow from the streetlamps outside bleeds through the curtains, illuminating Emily’s form on the bed. She wears a silk eye mask. Small orange earplugs protrude from her ears.

She actively barricades her senses against my presence. She sleeps soundly, completely insulated in her own dark, silent world, while my brain slowly fractures from exhaustion. A sharp, irrational spike of anger hits my blood. I turn away, walking into the walk-in closet to dress in the dark.

Three hours later, the atmosphere inside the Wolfe Empire corporate headquarters is completely toxic.

I sit at the head of the massive mahogany conference table on the top floor. The panoramic windows overlook the sprawling expanse of Asuir City. The morning sun glares against the glass, but the temperature inside the boardroom is absolute zero.

"The quarterly projections for the Sterling Pharmaceuticals merger are incomplete," I state. My voice is barely a whisper, yet it carries the terrifying weight of a physical threat.

The Vice President of Acquisitions sits two chairs away. His face is entirely devoid of color. A thick bead of sweat rolls down his temple, staining the collar of his expensive dress shirt.

"Mr. Wolfe," the executive stammers, shuffling a stack of printed reports with shaking hands. "The legal team required additional time to review the liability clauses. We anticipated a forty-eight-hour delay."

I pick up the thick, leather-bound portfolio resting on the table. I drop it directly onto the polished wood. The heavy smack makes three different executives flinch violently in their seats.

"I do not pay you to anticipate delays," I say, keeping my eyes locked on his terrified face. "I pay you to execute directives. You have until noon to finalize the paperwork, or you can clear out your desk."

I stand up, adjusting the cuffs of my charcoal suit. The entire room holds its collective breath. They know. The rumors always circulate through the corporate hierarchy with blistering speed. The CEO is in a foul, dangerous mood. I walk out of the boardroom without looking back, leaving a wake of terrified silence behind me.

Jackson falls into step beside me as I march down the carpeted hallway. He holds a digital tablet, his posture rigidly professional.

"Cancel the afternoon strategy meetings," I command, pressing two fingers against my throbbing temple. "Clear the schedule. I am heading down to UPL."

"Yes, sir," Jackson replies smoothly. He doesn’t ask questions. He knows the pressure I operate under. The lack of sleep lowers my tolerance for incompetence to absolute zero. The dark, menacing aura following me through the building is entirely intentional. It keeps the weak out of my path.

The heavy steel doors of the Ultimate Power Laboratory slide shut, sealing me inside the main engineering bay. The air smells of ozone and heated metal.

I stand before the primary testing chamber. A massive synthetic crystal sits suspended in a vacuum tube, surrounded by high-powered laser arrays. The chief engineer stands beside me, tapping rapidly on a diagnostic console.

"Initiating thermal load test," the engineer announces.

The lasers ignite, hitting the crystal with a blinding white intensity. The digital monitors on the wall spike, tracking the temperature variations. Within seconds, a spiderweb of microscopic fractures appears deep within the synthetic material.

A loud, sharp cracking sound echoes through the bay. The crystal shatters into a thousand pieces, dropping to the bottom of the vacuum tube like worthless glass.

"Failure," the engineer mutters, typing furiously to kill the laser arrays. "The synthetic structure cannot handle the rapid energy transfer. It destabilizes at high temperatures."

I grip the stainless-steel railing, the metal biting into my palms. My vision blurs slightly around the edges. The exhaustion is a physical weight pressing down on my skull, making it difficult to process the raw data.

"Reset the parameters," I order, my voice rough and abrasive. "Change the chemical binding agent. We are not leaving this facility until you produce a stable prototype."

"Sir, the team has been working for fourteen hours straight," the engineer protests weakly.

"Then work fifteen," I snap, turning my cold, burning eyes onto his face.

The engineer swallows hard and nods, turning back to his console.

I walk away from the testing chamber, heading for my private glass office overlooking the laboratory floor. I close the door, shutting out the noise of the machinery. I drop into the leather chair behind my desk, rubbing my hands roughly over my face.

Every single failure brings me back to the same impossible problem. The Stellar Core Meteorite Gold. Without that original extraterrestrial artifact, building a heatless energy conductor relies entirely on trial and error with synthetic compounds. I need the original. I need the template.

My encrypted phone vibrates on the glass desk.

I pick it up, staring at the screen. The text message is from Leo.

The Madam is skipping shooting practice today. Preparing to travel to the storefront for the design meeting. No sign of hostile surveillance.

I read the words twice, ensuring the information registers through the heavy fog in my brain. She is safe. She is building her business, completely unbothered by the suffocating tension she leaves behind in that master bedroom. She puts on her earplugs, shuts out the world, and sleeps soundly while I slowly lose my mind.

I toss the phone onto the desk. How is it possible for one woman to simultaneously be the source of my absolute chaos and the only person capable of bringing me peace?