Page 115 of The Rules

Still no reaction. Just another page flipped in the file he wasn’t reading, eyes on the words but seeing none of them.

His grip on the page left a faint indent.

Patty didn’t stop.

"I know it’s none of my business, but..." She shifted her weight, stepped closer, as if proximity might cut through the fog clouding the office. "You haven’t been like yourself.

You haven’t even beenhere.”

The latch clicked softly as Joshua entered behind her, but Patty kept her gaze on her cousin.

"I just want to know if you're okay," she added. And then, more honestly: "Because you don’t seem okay."

Ben exhaled slowly. A low, measured breath that did nothing to ease the pressure in his chest. His hand adjusted his cufflink with mechanical precision. A performance.

"I'm fine."

A lie. Polished and empty.

When his eyes finally met hers, they were hollowed out.

Not cruel. Not cold. Just...gone. Like whatever had burned in him had already turned to ash.

Patty said nothing. She didn’t need to.

Because the lie wasn’t just for her. It was for himself too.

"That’s bullshit."

The words landed like a hammer. Ben didn’t blink. But the air charged—sharp and electric, like the second before lightning strikes.

His gaze rose—slow, precise. A glance honed like a scalpel. Control locked into his spine.

Joshua stood at the threshold, fury crackling off him like static. Patty lingered nearby, caught between instinct and uncertainty. Her eyes flicked between them, mapping exits.

Ben’s tone was flat. "Excuse me?"

Two syllables. Cold. A warning, not a question.

"You heard me," Joshua snapped. "You didn’t just fire her—you humiliated her. You let this place tear her apart, and you didn’t say a goddamn word."

Ben remained still. Coiled. Studying.

His pulse steady, breath controlled. But something darker curled low in his gut. He cataloged every tell—flush rising, twitching fingers.

"You know what they’re saying out there?" Joshua pressed. Bitter. Rapid-fire. "That she fucked her way to the top. That you used her, got bored, and tossed her. And since no one dares to come for you, they rip her to pieces instead."

The words hit. Sharp. Precise. But Ben didn’t flinch. Only a subtle clench in his knuckles betrayed impact.

He reached out—slowly—and closed the folder before him. The soft click rang like a gunshot. His fingertips lingered. Silence stretched.

"She’s the one getting shredded," Joshua continued, louder now. "But it’s your name they’re all afraid to say. So they go for her. Because she’s easier."

Ben rose.

Not in rage.

Not in haste.