The building was nearly empty by the time Elena stepped into the executive kitchen on the 23rd floor. Only the humming of machines and the faint tapping of a server room echoed through the sterile corridors. She was running on fumes, and for once, not even her pride could suppress the craving for caffeine.
As she moved toward the coffee machine, she was startled someone was already there.
Liam.
He looked up, equally surprised, holding a half-full mug of something steaming and black. His jacket was draped over a nearby chair, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted faintly with grime he'd clearly been buried in some hardware repair.
"I figured you left hours ago," she said, recovering quickly.
"I could say the same to you," he replied. "Coffee?"
She hesitated for a heartbeat. "Sure."
He poured another cup, slid it toward her on the counter, and they stood in silence for a few moments. The usual tension that shadowed their encounters wasn't as sharp tonight. Instead, it hung there softly like the scent of roasted beans and something unspoken.
"You don't sleep much, do you?" he asked eventually.
She gave a wry smile. "Not lately."
He nodded, his gaze dropping to his mug. "Same."
The silence stretched, comfortable this time.
Elena surprised herself by breaking it.
"My father kept a journal," she said slowly. "Encrypted. Hidden in his study. I found it tonight."
Liam turned to her, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. "And you want me to take a look?"
"Yes… but that's not the only reason I'm still here," she admitted before she could stop herself.
He blinked, then offered a soft, crooked smile. "Didn't think it was."
A quiet beat passed between them. Then Liam spoke again, voice lower, tinged with something older than his age.
"I used to wonder if my father kept a journal too," he said. "But I wouldn't know. Never met him."
Elena turned to him, surprised by the openness.
"Grew up bouncing through foster homes," he continued. "Some good, some... not. I taught myself code because it made sense. The world didn't. But if I could understand a machine, at least I could control something."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the coffee mug.
"I always thought if I worked hard enough, I'd find someone like me. Someone who didn't just survive this world but bent it to their will."
"You mean someone ruthless?" she said softly.
He looked at her with something close to amusement. "I mean someone relentless."
Their eyes met, and in that moment, something shifted something intimate and raw. No shields. No boardroom masks.
Just two people, standing in the quiet hour, sharing pieces of themselves that rarely saw daylight.
She broke the gaze first, sipping her coffee.
"I should probably get that journal to you tomorrow," she said.
"I'll be waiting," Liam said, then added, more gently, "Take care, Elena."
She lingered another second before walking away, the warmth of the coffee clashing with the heat in her chest.
Behind her, Liam watched her go.
And for the first time in years, he wasn't thinking about firewalls or scripts or secrets.
He was thinking about her.