Wentworth.”
Silas turned to Wren.
“Security has your transport ready.”
That was all.
No speech.
No public rescue.
No demand for gratitude.
He walked away.
By noon, the broken access panel was repaired.
By evening, every employee credential had been audited.
Within a week, the hotel had added discreet emergency procedures for workers being followed or threatened on company property.
Wren used the preserved security footage when she reported the incident.
The recording of the threat and the video from the lobby gave her something she had not possessed before: evidence that did not depend on whether someone believed the fear in her voice.
She obtained protection through the proper channels and never returned to the apartment whose address he knew.
For the first several nights in the temporary apartment, she barely slept.
She checked the lock repeatedly.
She listened whenever footsteps passed in the hall.
Then one night she woke and realized sunlight was coming through the curtains.
She had slept six uninterrupted hours.
Nothing terrible had happened while her eyes were closed.
A month later, Wren returned to full shifts.
Nobody mentioned the 47th floor.
Silas had made certain of that.
She saw him only occasionally after that morning: crossing the lobby with executives, entering elevators ordinary employees never used, standing in quiet conversation near reception.
He never treated her like a secret they shared.
He simply nodded when their paths crossed.
Once, several months later, Wren stopped him beside the service elevators.
“Mr.
Wentworth.”
Silas turned.
She looked healthier.
The bruise had vanished long ago.
More importantly, the constant calculation behind her eyes had softened.
“I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
She seemed surprised by the question.
“For not firing me.”
Silas glanced toward the newly secured maintenance corridor.
“You still broke into my suite.”
Wren smiled faintly.
“I knew there was a catch.”
“There usually is.”
She hesitated.
“And the employee housing program.
Whoever created that…”
Silas’s expression gave her nothing.
“It helped.”
“Good.”
“I don’t know who I should thank.”
“You don’t need to.”
Wren studied him, perhaps sensing something in the answer.
Then the elevator arrived.
Before stepping inside, she said, “I sleep now.”
Silas looked at her.
“Most nights.”
The doors began to close.
