I've been in a five-month online relationship with a man named "V," and we're at the most intoxicating stage of it all. He never shows his face, but he always sends me half-naked post-shower photos of his abs late at night. Water droplets trickle down his taut, bulging muscles, disappearing into the dangerous edge of the towel wrapped around his waist. Along with the photos come the explicit messages that make my face burn: "Baby, last night in my dream, the way you clung to me and cried... it was beautiful." I'm completely ensnared in this web of passion, about to suggest we finally meet in person. Until he sends me a casual photo of his desk. In the corner of the picture, I spot something extremely familiar—the seal representing the highest authority of Sterling Corporation. And I just so happen to work at the very bottom of that corporation. That means my online lover is very likely my boss. My heart pounding with dread, I try to figure out who he is. Then I notice it: the dark ruby tie clip I personally picked out for V is gleaming boldly on the chest of my greasy married direct supervisor. Disgusted to the core, I block my online lover on all platforms. The next day, the thousand-billion-dollar conglomerate's cold-blooded, ruthless leader—the one who never shows up—descends upon our department. During the executive meeting, he rips the tie clip off my supervisor's chest and carefully puts it away. Then he fixes his cold gaze on the stunned supervisor: "Who gave you permission to touch my things?" This man—the most untouchable in all of New York—corners me in a deserted hallway after the meeting. Red-eyed, he presses his rough thumb heavily against my lips and grits out through clenched teeth: "Why did you block me?"