Once His Nightmare, Now His Employee

CASPIAN's POV

The universe has a twisted sense of humor.

Of all the faces I imagined walking through that door for an interview at my company... This was the last.

Dorian. Fucking. Keene.

High school golden boy. The self-declared Alpha who once made it his goddamn mission to grind me into dust.

And now he's sitting across from me-his knees lightly bouncing, his eyes darting, and he was smiling like an eager little lamb on his first day as a staff member in my company. 

If only he knew I remembered everything.

Then again, the way his fingers kept twitching, I think he did.

The shattered glasses. The broken ribs. The blood I tasted while he laughed. The locker slams. The bruised lungs. The time he said I didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him.

I remember it all.

I remember the moment I promised myself: If I ever make it, I will make him regret breathing.

Today is the day I begin collecting on that promise.

The bastard probably thought he had changed, but some people don't evolve-they just wear newer, cleaner masks. Dorian might have grown broader shoulders, trimmed that jawline, and traded varsity jackets for a dress shirt, but underneath that new shell... the same weak, stupid boy.

Still stupid enough to walk into a Lion's den and smile.

But something about him had shifted. He wasn't as cocky. He was... soft around the edges. That sweet cinnamon-roll softness that made the girls in high school swoon and the boys want to be him. Pity good looks don't determine fate.

A little digging had revealed his mother died recently. Poor baby. Life finally got tired of handing him wins.

Now he needed this job like oxygen. Ouch!

"I promise to do my best at this job," he said, his voice trembling. "I promise to put in my all."

He was rubbing his wrists together in small, rapid motions. A tell? Anxiety? My therapist once said it was a subconscious attempt to self-soothe.

I chuckled softly.

"Oh, I'm sure you will. After all, you need to be competent to stay in this company."

He nodded quickly, eager to please. My insides seethed with the memory of being seventeen and bloody-mouthed while he smirked like a god.

"I won't let you down, Mr. Vale," he added.

Mr. Vale. How quaint. I pressed my fist beneath the table to keep from knocking his perfect teeth in.

"Of course," I said coolly. Then I tilted my head. "But I must say... you look completely different from junior high school."

The blood drained from his face. His lips parted. His throat bobbed like he had just swallowed nails. 

"Caspian..." he whispered, looking anywhere but me. "I know we had a little bit of... differences in high school, but surely we can put that behind us?"

I stood, my hands in my pockets, and my smile, a razor-thin one. 

"You already promised to be a good employee," I said. "Let's test that."

I plucked a card from my briefcase and stepped toward him. His lips were parted, still gasping like a beached fish. Without a word, I slid the card between them and watched his eyes blink twice before he clamped down on it in confusion.

He slowly withdrew it and read.

His face paled with every line.

"I... I think there's been a mistake, Mr. Vale."

His smile was hollow. Dead in the eyes.

Perfect.

"Mistake?" I echoed.

He stammered. "I applied for the CFO position. This says I should clean your hotel room, pick up dry cleaning, and fetch your coffee order-Oat milk. No foam..."

I nodded solemnly. "Fourteenth floor. 9:45 AM. Don't be late."

"But..." he began, blinking rapidly.

"And," I interrupted, "I expect a full ten-year financial projection and valuation model for our unreleased AI product by tomorrow. Include three potential acquisition scenarios and a confidential Fortune 100 merger proposal."

He swallowed hard. I pressed on.

"Oh, and draft our Series D investor pitch deck. I want risk modeling, burn rate analysis, exit strategy, and five-year ROI mapping."

His hands were trembling now.

"No one else can help you. NDA sealed."

"I... That's... Sir, that's... usually work for multiple departments..."

"I need it now. Unless you're incapable," I said smoothly, "in which case I will remove you from the field. Your call."

He clutched the card like it was a lifeline. "I will get it done," he said hoarsely.

I gave him one last nod and walked out. There was no way in hell he would be able to complete it all.

And I wasn't going to fire him.

No. I would break him piece by piece. Slowly. Every damn day. His ego. His pride. His perfect face. Until all that's left is a whisper of who he used to be.

~~~~~

9:02 AM.

The boardroom doors creaked open.

And there he was holding my latte.

Every head turned to look at him, and I watched his throat tighten like he was choking on humiliation.

He froze.

"You're interrupting a board meeting," my assistant snapped.

I held up a hand. "He's here with my coffee."

He didn't move.

Then, after a long pause, he walked forward-his shoulders stiff and his eyes on the floor. He placed the coffee in front of me with a half-bow, like a servant in an ancient court.

I didn't say a word. I just let him walk out.

Let him sit with that.

He'll be serving me lattes for far longer than he can survive.

~~~~~

By closing time, I was craving one last crack at his spirit.

"Where's Mr. Keene?" I asked.

"Still in his office, sir. He hasn't left." Deborah replied. 

I smiled.

Perfect.

I entered the elevator and went back to his office. I opened the door without knocking.

"Mr. Keene, you were supposed to have delivered at least one..."

I stopped. Why? 

His head was resting on the desk. He was sleeping on his first day at work. 

Anger coursed through me and I moved closer to his table and there he was... He wasn't sleeping. 

Pills were scattered around him. The compliance update file was still open on his laptop. And his fingers were limp around a pen.

A single breath caught in my throat. "Mr. Keene?"

I stepped closer, slowly picking up the bottle of pills. It was half-empty.

His body didn't stir.

My heart thudded once, loudly.

This wasn't part of the plan.

This wasn't...

At least... Not like this.

"Someone call 911!" I shouted, my voice cracking.