The subject of change was so abrupt that Neville needed a moment to catch up. One second, they were talking about flowers, then the next, they were talking about what had happened earlier.

Also, Grayson’s eyes were so intense that they made his throat a little dry.

"About earlier," Grayson said, like he was being deliberately vague about something important.

Neville blinked. Earlier?

Neville had almost forgotten about that because of everything that happened. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He already knew that Director Cox harbored no good intentions when he stopped in front of Grayson for a quick chat. That he wouldn’t just go like that without a fight.

But Neville did not expect this.

He did not expect Director Cox to go this far. As far as he knew, only the mention of Grayson’s father would trigger such a violent response in this timeline. The system had never been clear about the details, and there were also gaps in the information it provided.

But Neville knew one thing for certain: Grayson’s father’s death was one of the pivotal moments that had shaped him into the villain he was supposed to become.

Was supposed to become.

Because if Neville had anything to say about it, he would never let Grayson walk that path again.

After all, that was the reason he transmigrated here.

Still, from what he had witnessed earlier...

The raw fury, the barely contained violence radiating from Grayson...

It revealed something important.

The death of General Maxwell Senior was far from simple. And Director Cox, the scheming old bastard, clearly knew something about it.

"Someone had to do something," Neville replied, aiming for a light and casual tone.

Because someone needed to do something.

When Grayson’s mental riot came, his dominant alpha pheromones had erupted with a force that indiscriminately suppressed everyone in the vicinity. Everyone had been on their knees or was frozen in place.

But Neville just walked straight into the source of that force.

By all rights, the mental riot should have affected him, too. Should have sent his own omega instincts haywire in the face of such dominant alpha aggression. His subconscious should have been screaming at him to submit, to flee, to do anything.

Instead, he had felt... nothing.

No, not nothing. That wasn’t quite right.

He had felt something—a strange bubble of calm in the midst of chaos. It was as if he had been standing in the eye of a hurricane while the storm raged around him, completely untouched by the destruction.

It was completely different from his reaction to other dominant alphas.

Someone like Killian made his skin crawl just by sniffing a little of his pheromones in the same room. The mere proximity of certain alphas triggered every defensive instinct he possessed, set his teeth on edge, and made him want to bolt out somewhere far away from them.

However, he had already built a significant immunity to those alpha’s pheromones due to his constitution.

But Grayson’s? It was incredibly comfortable and safe, which was absolutely insane because Grayson was the most dangerous amongst all the dominant alphas.

Was it the system? Had some passive ability kicked in that Shelly didn’t mention? Had his mermaid constitution undergone some secret upgrade? Or was it something else entirely?

Heat crept up his neck, spreading across his face in a way that he desperately hoped wasn’t visible.

Grayson glanced at him with an unreadable expression. But it only quickened Neville’s heartbeat despite his best effort to remain calm.

"Well," Grayson said slowly, "that’s a first for me."

Neville turned his face away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. "It worked, anyway, right?"

It was really awkward, given that he had poked him like a child to wake him up from the mental riot. It was such a ridiculous method, but it worked anyway. Even Neville still couldn’t quite believe he had done it.

But it did work.

The silence stretched between them now, thick with things unsaid.

When Grayson spoke again, his voice had dropped lower—the kind of tone people used in intimate, private moments.

"It did. It always does."

Neville’s brain short-circuited.

Always?

Did he do it to him before? When?

Had there been other moments when Grayson had been on the edge of losing control? Other times, when Neville had inadvertently pulled him back without even realizing it?

His heart thumped hard, and he became desperate for something to diffuse this situation.

"Next time it happens," he said, forcing lightness into his voice, "I’ll try another method."

Grayson’s response was immediate: "You can just poke me the same."

The words hit Neville like a bucket of cold water dumped directly over his head.

Shame flooded through him, hot and suffocating, burning away the strange tension. He had been so focused on handling the situation, so proud of his quick thinking, that he hadn’t considered how it must have looked from the outside.

How dare a mere employee touch a CEO? How dare a technical assistant lay hands on his boss as if they were equals? As if they were friends?

No. Absolutely not.

Please bury me alive now, he mentally begged the universe.

Grayson was still watching him, reading his reaction. But there was something in the slight tilt of his head, the almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth, that suggested he found Neville’s discomfort to be quite entertaining.

The bastard.

The infuriatingly gorgeous, probably-enjoying-this-way-too-much bastard.

"On the next board meeting," Neville said abruptly, grasping at the first professional topic that came to mind. "I’ll submit the preliminary reports to you by tomorrow. The implementation timeline needs to be reviewed, and several budgetary allocations require your signature before we can proceed with—"

"The reports can wait."

He lifted his head, startled, and for the first time caught an expression on Grayson’s face that he could only describe as... pitiful.

It wouldn’t look like anything to anyone else. But Neville could see that Grayson was tired.

"You did well today," Grayson said, his voice gentler than Neville had ever heard it. "So take the rest of the evening off."

Neville stared at him, trying to process this unexpected development.

Grayson was telling him to take time off? Again?

Come to think of it, Grayson had been saying "take a rest" more often lately. At first, Neville thought that it was just his imagination and that Grayson had been reasonable for giving him a day off.

But now, he was starting to wonder if it was really reasonable.

There must be something wrong.

He thought that he needed ample rest to prepare for this mentally exhausting collaboration meeting.

Why did he feel like Grayson was trying to distance himself from him?

Now, looking at the exhaustion lines on Grayson’s face, he had to wonder if there was another reason entirely.

Did Grayson... not want to see him?