Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 57: Crowded Thoughts

Chapter 57: Crowded Thoughts

Hello, Mia?!

Her eyes widened, the screen blurring momentarily as she stared.

Niklaus? Her boss? Why is he texting me this late?

Her hands felt clammy as she held the phone. For a moment, she just stared at the words.

Then, without warning, she dropped the device onto the couch and let out a squeal she didn’t even know she needed.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she stayed like that, face buried in a cushion, replaying the name and the message over and over in her head. Niklaus had texted her.

Why? How? What does he even want at this hour? How did he get my number? Should I be mad? Am I excited? Ughh.

Hermia didn’t know how long she remained there, caught in her flurry of emotions, but eventually, the comforting pull of sleep overtook her, and she drifted off, phone still lying on the couch beside her.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Morning came with all the subtlety of a freight train.

Hermia’s neck ached, her spine protested, and her face was mashed unceremoniously into the scratchy fabric of the couch.

Not a bed. Not even close. Just a sad, sagging couch that had served as her throne of defeat the night before.

She stirred with a low groan, one eye cracking open to meet the dull grey light filtering through her dusty blinds.

Her body was stiff, every joint creaking like an old wooden floorboard.

A thin throw blanket had fallen halfway to the floor, tangled around her legs like a half-hearted attempt at comfort.

Her phone lay face-down on the coffee table, untouched. She didn’t reach for it.

Didn’t want to. She didn’t need a screen to tell her what she already knew—she was late, unprepared, and emotionally fried.

There was no music playing. No kettle whistling. No familiar footsteps in the kitchen. Just a yawning silence that pressed against the walls of her tiny apartment.

Living alone was weird. Hollow.

Of course she lived alone before but coming here and staying with family she had begun to change, there was always a noise at least. It hurts a little to be out alone again.

With a sigh that came from somewhere deep in her soul, she rolled off the couch and trudged toward the bathroom like a woman preparing for battle.

She barely looked at her reflection as she scrubbed her face clean of last night’s smudged mascara, brushed her teeth with robotic precision, and wrestled her hair into something resembling order.

Her clothes were chosen without care—black slacks, a tucked-in blouse, a blazer that made her look more professional than she felt.

Breakfast? Skipped. Coffee? Forgotten. Ok, later.

She didn’t even mutter a goodbye to the empty apartment before grabbing her bag and slamming the door behind her.

The early morning chill wrapped around her like a scolding mother as she stepped out onto the street, the sky above a flat sheet of pale silver. Her breath fogged in the air as she marched to the curb.

A cab pulled up like fate itself had summoned it. She climbed in wordlessly, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Where to?" the driver asked without glancing back.

She told him, her voice hoarse from disuse.

As the cab pulled away, Hermia leaned her head against the cold window. The city sped by in blurs of grey and chrome, and for a moment, she let her eyes drift closed.

It was only day two of her new life.

And already, it felt like survival.

But before she’ll reach the building her mood lightened up recalling she has a fucking job and her life!

>>>>>>

Meanwhile last night

>>>>>

Arthur sighed as he started the car, glancing briefly in the rearview mirror. "We need to get—"

The sound of Niklaus’s surprised exclamation cut him off sharply, snapping his attention to the man seated beside him. "She forgot her phone," Niklaus said, his tone unexpectedly buoyant.

The sheer delight in his voice was almost comical, as if Hermia had run back to confess her undying love.

Arthur blinked, momentarily speechless. Was he serious? "You sound like you won the lottery, boss," Arthur teased, trying to mask his amusement.

Niklaus didn’t even bother with a response, too preoccupied with holding Hermia’s forgotten phone in his hand like it was some rare treasure.

"She really needs to stop leaving things behind," Arthur added lightly, casting a quick glance at Niklaus’s unusually cheerful expression.

Niklaus ignored the comment, his mind clearly elsewhere. His gaze fixated on the phone, as if it symbolized something far greater than an absentminded slip.

Suddenly, without warning, he declared, "I’m not going back to the office."

Arthur frowned, his hands tightening around the steering wheel in disbelief. "What do you mean you’re not going back? It’s not even the end of the workday."

"I’m done with work for the day," Niklaus replied, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

Arthur nearly laughed, though his surprise outweighed his humor. "You? Done with work? Niklaus, are you feeling alright? You’re practically married to that desk of yours."

Niklaus shot him a brief, unreadable glance. "I’m fine."

Arthur couldn’t help but grin, the absurdity of the situation dawning on him. "So what’s the plan now? You’re not going to sit on the sidewalk and wait for her, are you?"

Without answering, Niklaus got out of the car, leaving Arthur to park the Lamborghini while he took the phone upstairs.

Arthur sat in the car for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief.

Niklaus Hathaway—the CEO who was practically a machine when it came to work—was abandoning his schedule because of Hermia. What had this woman done to him?

When Niklaus returned to the car almost thirty minutes later, Arthur couldn’t resist. "So, boss, was that about work or... something else?" His smirk was impossible to miss.

Niklaus’s lips curved slightly, his expression smug. "Let’s just say I don’t leave things unfinished, Arthur."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. Whatever was happening, it was clear Niklaus Hathaway was no longer the same man who lived and breathed for work.

And Arthur wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or the start of something far more chaotic.

He got to his office and it became a crazy night.

Niklaus Hathaway had conquered markets, outwitted rivals, and built an empire with his bare hands.

He had navigated billion-dollar deals with the calm precision of a surgeon.

He had faced boardrooms filled with vipers and walked out the only man standing.

And yet, one tiny, glowing screen had reduced him to a state of utter chaos.

The office was quiet—the way he usually liked it. The sharp lines of his desk were polished to perfection, papers stacked neatly in folders.

His laptop hummed softly, the day’s agenda blinking on the screen.

And still, none of it registered.

His phone lay on the desk like a ticking bomb, tempting him, mocking him.

He reached for it.

The message was simple. Casual. A safe opener.

[Hello]

He stared at it for a moment.

She didn’t have his number but surely she’d figure it out. Or at least reply out of curiosity.

He hit send.

The little bubble appeared—delivered.

And that was it. No dots. No reply.

Just silence.

He exhaled, dragging a hand over his face.

She’s probably busy, he told himself.

He gave it five minutes. Then ten.

By fifteen, he was glaring at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

Still nothing.

He set the phone down and attempted to return to his work. Attempted being the operative word.

He signed a few documents, read the same email twice, and tried—really tried—to focus.

But it was like trying to read a book underwater. His mind kept floating back to the same damn thought.

Why hasn’t she replied?

Was she angry? Did she think it was weird? Did she even know it was him?

He reached for the phone again and this time, didn’t bother with subtlety.

Niklaus: Hello Mia

No code name. No mask.

There. Now she would know.

And still... the silence screamed louder than any answer ever could.

Minutes passed.

Hours.

He didn’t even realize when the office grew dark around him. The only light came from the dim glow of his monitor and the mocking blue hue of his phone screen.

The city outside bustled, unaware that its most composed CEO was currently unraveling thread by thread.

He didn’t go home.

Didn’t touch his dinner.

Didn’t take a single meeting after 6PM.

Instead, Niklaus sat at his desk like a man possessed, eyes locked on the one thing he couldn’t control.

The unread message.