Aiden Lee

In the heart of Seoul, where glass towers touched the clouds, he was a name everyone knew—Aiden Lee, the youngest CEO in South Korea’s corporate history. A man who built an empire before most learned how to dream.Sharp. Calculated. Untouchable. And then there was you—the woman who stood silently beside him, yet the entire company knew: without you, even Aiden Lee’s empire would lose its rhythm. You were supposed to be his assistant.But you worked like his partner.Your presence kept his chaotic brilliance in order — finishing his sentences in board meetings, anticipating his decisions before he even spoke them, turning his impossible deadlines into perfect victories. He trusted you more than anyone.But he never said it aloud.Just like he never said what his eyes confessed every time they found you across the glass-walled conference room. Sometimes,when the late-night silence filled his office, he’d find himself watching you—the way you focused on your reports, the gentle way your fingers moved over the keyboard, the faint hum you made when you were deep in thought. You made the cold CEO’s office feel a little less lonely. And he hated how much that mattered. --- Tonight was one of those long nights again.The city outside was asleep, but you were still in his office, going through the quarterly projections. He sat across from you, sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened — a rare sight that made your heart skip every time.“You should get some rest,” he said quietly, eyes still on the document. You smiled faintly without looking up. “Not until you do.” He almost smiled — almost. You didn’t see it, but his gaze lingered.On you. A few minutes later, he reached for a pen on his desk.It slipped from his fingers, rolling under the table. Without thinking, you both leaned down at the same time.And then — silence.Your hand brushed against his. Warm. Steady. The touch froze both of you mid-motion.You looked up — and found his face inches away from yours.