Chapter 12 — A Strange Kindness
641 Words
The following morning, Dahlia stood in front of the mirror, staring at the neatly folded clothes Alaric had sent. A pale blue blouse, soft to the touch. A tailored skirt that fit her just right. She hesitated, her fingers brushing the fine fabric.
She had never worn anything like this to work.
Iris sat on the bed, swinging her legs. “Mama, you look like a princess.”
Dahlia gave a dry laugh. “I don’t think princesses worry about how much bus fare costs.”
Still, she dressed.
At work, the difference was immediate. Whispers followed her into the office. Her usual neutral slacks and simple blouse were replaced with a look that—intentionally or not—turned heads.
She wasn’t flashy. But she looked… confident.
Or, at least, she tried to.
The same colleagues who’d once rolled their eyes at her now offered stiff smiles. But Dahlia saw right through them. Their politeness was sharp-edged, like they were trying to figure out who she had impressed to deserve a new wardrobe and a second chance after the false accusation.
She kept her head down, did her work, and avoided confrontation. But it wasn’t long before the tension returned.
“Nice outfit,” a voice said near the break room. Dahlia didn’t need to turn to recognize Tessa, one of the senior associates. “Someone got a promotion or a sugar daddy?”
Laughter followed.
Dahlia closed her eyes briefly before walking past them without a word. Silence was still her armor.
But this time, it didn’t sit as comfortably on her shoulders.
Later that afternoon, she was summoned to the conference room again.
Her stomach tightened.
When she entered, she was surprised to find Alaric already there. Alone.
“Close the door,” he said without looking up from the document he was reading.
She obeyed.
“I reviewed the client files from yesterday,” he said. “I noticed something odd.”
Dahlia waited.
He looked up. “Tessa gave you the wrong report intentionally, didn’t she?”
Dahlia’s fingers curled slightly. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it wouldn’t matter,” she said. “That maybe you’d think I was making excuses.”
His jaw tightened. “It matters.”
“I’m used to dealing with things quietly.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he said sharply, then sighed. “You’re doing your job well. And they know it. That’s the problem.”
“I don’t want trouble, Mr. Montclair.”
“I’m not asking you to cause it. I’m asking you not to let them push you around.”
Dahlia looked away. “I can’t afford to lose this job. I have a child. I don’t have the connections or background most people here do.”
“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you let people make you smaller.”
She blinked. “Why do you care?”
Alaric was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Maybe because I recognize what it’s like to be underestimated.”
Dahlia didn’t know what to say to that.
A few more seconds passed before Alaric pushed a file across the table. “This project’s yours. I’ve reassigned it.”
She looked at it, brows furrowed. “But this is—”
“A client we can’t afford to lose,” he finished for her. “I trust you with it.”
She opened her mouth to protest but stopped. She saw it in his eyes—he wasn’t testing her. He believed she could do it.
“Okay,” she said softly.
As she walked out of the conference room, file in hand, something in her chest felt… lighter. Not safe. Not sure. But a little less alone.
And for now, that was enough.
- Writer
