A Thread Unraveling
1316 Words
Chapter 7
The coffee machine in the executive lounge sputtered as Ariella filled her cup, the hiss of steam matching the rising anxiety in her chest. The morning had been oddly quiet. Damien hadn’t said much—he hadn’t even looked at her the same way.
Not since yesterday.
Not since the bandages and jellybeans.
That small, silent gesture had left a ripple in her calm. She didn’t know what it meant, if anything. Maybe it was just polite concern. Maybe he’d forgotten about it already.
Or maybe... something had changed.
“Hey, new girl.”
Tessa’s voice broke through Ariella’s thoughts like a cold gust of wind.
She turned, managing a polite nod. “Morning.”
Tessa leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her designer blazer. “You left in a rush yesterday.”
Ariella kept her tone neutral. “Personal emergency.”
“Mmm.” Tessa sipped her latte, eyes narrowing. “He let you leave mid-day. That’s rare.”
Ariella said nothing. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation. Especially not someone who clearly resented her existence.
Tessa smiled tightly. “You must be really special.”
Ariella turned away. “Excuse me, I have work to do.”
She didn’t look back as she walked away, but she could feel Tessa’s gaze like a knife in her back.
---
Back at her desk, she dove into scheduling meetings, answering emails, and organizing Damien’s upcoming charity gala—anything to keep her mind busy.
But she couldn’t ignore the weight of the unopened envelope in her inbox.
Subject: Starlight Daycare Tuition Reminder
Her stomach twisted. The job at Blackwood Enterprises paid better than anything she’d ever had, but between groceries, rent, Liam’s school supplies, and medical bills… it still wasn’t enough.
She reached for her phone to transfer funds when a familiar name flashed across her screen: Miss Clara – Starlight Daycare.
Ariella’s pulse jumped.
She glanced at Damien’s office. The door was closed. She picked up quickly and lowered her voice.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ms. Johnson. Sorry to call again so soon,” Miss Clara said, kind but rushed. “It’s about Liam.”
Her heart stopped.
“Is he okay?”
“Oh, yes! He’s just fine. But there’s been an issue with your emergency contact. The number you listed isn’t going through, and we need an updated form.”
Ariella closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it tonight.”
Miss Clara paused, then added gently, “He’s been asking a lot about his dad lately. More than usual. He said he has questions for you.”
Ariella swallowed hard. “Okay. Thank you for letting me know.”
She hung up and stared blankly at her screen.
Her hands shook. Liam was asking questions. About him.
She wasn’t ready.
And she didn’t know how much longer she could keep this wall standing.
---
Damien stood just behind the conference room door, flipping through budget reports as he waited for his department heads to arrive. But his focus was broken by a voice—faint but distinct—coming from the hallway.
“…He’s been asking a lot about his dad lately…”
A pause.
“…More than usual. He said he has questions for you.”
It was Ariella. And her voice wasn’t just soft—it was shaken.
Damien frowned, stepping back slightly to avoid being seen. The phone call ended, and footsteps retreated.
His mind wandered.
Her child… was asking about their father?
That small boy. The one she rushed out of work for yesterday. The one who was injured.
Something about that unsettled him more than it should have.
He returned to the table as the others entered, but his thoughts stayed in the hallway. Around Ariella. Her voice. Her secrets.
And the way his name—his face—kept echoing in the back of his mind every time he looked at her.
---
Later That Afternoon
The office had quieted as most staff broke for lunch, but Ariella remained at her desk, typing quickly. Damien had just emailed her requesting a summary on one of their charity projects, and she wanted to finish it before he returned.
She didn’t hear him approach until his shadow fell across her desk.
She looked up, startled.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. His voice was calm. Not cold.
“It’s fine. Just focused.”
He nodded, his gaze lingering.
“How’s your son?” he asked suddenly.
Ariella froze.
Her throat tightened before she could find words. “He’s fine. Better.”
Damien hesitated, then added, “Good. I hope… it wasn’t too much trouble yesterday.”
“No. Thank you again. I—he really needed me.”
He studied her, and for the first time, there was a softness in his eyes that felt dangerous. Not because it was threatening—but because it was real.
“I remember something strange,” he said quietly. “From the other day. The way you looked when I asked if we’d met before.”
Her heart jumped.
“I—I just wasn’t expecting the question,” she said quickly, forcing a smile.
Damien nodded slowly. “Right.”
But he didn’t look convinced.
Before she could redirect the conversation, he glanced down at the desk beside her and reached out.
“Is this yours?” he asked, lifting a piece of paper slightly buried under her folders.
Ariella’s blood turned to ice.
It was Liam’s drawing. A crayon sketch he’d done for her last night and slipped into her bag: a stick-figure woman with brown hair and a little boy with messy curls… holding hands with a taller man in a gray suit.
She grabbed it gently from his hand, her fingers trembling. “Yes—it’s my son’s. He draws a lot.”
Damien’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did.
“He’s got quite the imagination.”
She nodded quickly, already tucking the paper out of sight. “He does.”
He stepped back, hesitating again.
“Take the rest of the afternoon off.”
She blinked. “Sir?”
“Go. Spend it with your son.”
“I still have two meetings to—”
“I’ll manage.”
She stood slowly, unsure if it was kindness or suspicion in his voice.
But he didn’t offer more. He just turned and walked back into his office, leaving Ariella staring after him, heart pounding.
---
That Evening
The wind had picked up, blowing softly through the half-open kitchen window as Liam stood on a chair beside the counter, stirring pancake batter in a big plastic bowl.
“Am I doing it right?” he asked, tongue sticking out in concentration.
“You’re doing great,” Ariella said, smiling despite the ache in her chest.
Liam tilted his head. “Can we draw again after dinner?”
“Of course. What do you want to draw?”
He grinned. “Us. And the man with the suit.”
She paused.
“You mean the one from your drawing last night?”
Liam nodded. “Yeah. I saw him once. I think he was in a dream.”
Her hands stopped mid-mix.
“In your dream?”
He nodded again. “He had your eyes. But his voice was low, like on cartoons when the hero says ‘Come with me.’”
Her heart squeezed.
She ruffled his hair gently, trying to smile. “You have a big imagination.”
Liam shrugged. “Maybe. But I think he was real.”
As he hopped down to set the table, Ariella turned away from the counter and pressed a hand to her chest.
He was asking more questions.
And it was getting harder—so much harder—to keep the truth away from them both.
- Writer
