The Heiress They Buried Alive

Chapter 4: Seven O'Clock

Nora's POV

Just as I stepped out of Mr. Clinton's office and was about to close the door behind me, someone bumped into me.

The impact was sudden. My purse slipped from my hand and hit the floor.

It almost felt like she had been standing there listening to our conversations.

I closed the door behind me.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately and bent to pick up my purse.

When I straightened up, the woman's eyes were already on me. They moved over me slowly. Coldly. The way a blade moves across a surface it has already decided to cut.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

Before I could respond, her palm cracked across my cheek.

"Sorry for your miserable self," she replied.

The sound echoed sharply through the corridor. Everything around me went momentarily still. The sting spread across my skin and the metallic taste of blood touched my tongue where my teeth had caught the inside of my lip.

Anger rose inside me instantly.

But I pulled it back.

I lifted my eyes to her again.

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry," I said carefully, keeping my voice steady. "But you were the one who bumped into me."

Her eyes darkened.

"How dare you speak to me that way. Do you know who I am?"

"Whatever you are is your own business, ma'am. Simple courtesy costs nothing, and–,"

The second slap landed before I finished the sentence. Harder than the first. My head snapped to the side.

The last thread of my patience snapped with it.

I turned my face back slowly, looked her directly in the eyes, and returned it, twice, sharp and deliberate.

The echo hung in the corridor like thunder.

"That," I said quietly, "is for slapping me twice."

"What is going on here?"

Mr. Clinton's voice came from behind me as his office door swung open. He looked at both of us, Juliana still pressing her hand to her cheek, me standing with my chin level and my bag at my side.

"Juliana, what happened?" he asked.

"Clinton, ask this lunatic," Juliana snapped. "And don't tell me she works here because I will not accept that."

He turned to me. "Mira, why are you still in the corridor? I thought you left."

"Sir, she bumped into me. I apologized. She slapped me twice anyway. So I returned it."

"You did what?" His voice rose sharply. Then he turned back to Juliana, his tone shifting. "But Juliana, do you have to slap her? What is it with you and slapping of my staff?"

Juliana pulled away from him.

"Oh! Really? Your staff? Are you seriously asking me that question in her presence?"

"Mira, go back to your desk," he said.

I turned and walked back toward the open floor. As I entered the workers' area I caught the eyes of several colleagues who had been watching through the glass with the focused attention of people pretending very hard to be working.

Doren jumped from behind her desk and grabbed my arm the moment I reached my seat.

"Don't tell me you're this fearless," she whispered, pulling me down into my chair.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"How did you do it?" Olivia leaned forward from her desk, her eyes wide. "I thought you'd been acting all shy and withdrawn since you got here. Your head was always down. What changed?"

I looked between them, genuinely confused by the way they were staring at me.

"I don't see why that matters," I said, opening my computer to give my hands something to do.

Doren leaned closer and studied my face.

"You're the type that doesn't talk, doesn't draw attention, keeps to herself… but will not take nonsense from a single soul." She shook her head, still laughing. "You just slapped the boss's fiancée."

"Who cares even if she's the president's daughter?" I muttered, turning back to my screen.

Olivia pulled her chair closer.

"Start counting the number of minutes you will last further. Nobody messes with Juliana and walks away clean. She will get you fired immediately."

"I don't care," I replied, still praying very hard that I was right to say that.

"You should care," Olivia pressed. "Aside from being Mr. Clinton's fiancée, her family owns Triple H Elite Group. They are one of the most powerful privately held companies in this country."

I froze.

Triple H Elite Group.

I knew that name.

My father had mentioned it more times than I could count. His rival company. Always competing with Anderson Corporation at every industry event.

"Is her father Mr. Damian?" I asked.

The question left my mouth before I could stop it.

More than half the staff on the floor seemed to go still at once. Heads lifted from screens. Conversations paused mid-sentence. All eyes turned toward me with the same stunned expression.

"How do you know her father?" someone asked.

Then another voice. And another.

The question came from several directions almost simultaneously, as though they had rehearsed it.

The silence that followed pressed in around me.

I had said too much.

"Excuse me," I said quickly, standing up. "I need to use the restroom."

I walked straight there without looking back.

‘You are Mira Josh. Mira Josh has nothing to lose and no one to protect. Act like it.’ I muttered to myself

"And who exactly is Mira Josh?”

The deep voice hit me like cold water.

I looked up sharply.

Mr. Clinton stood in the doorframe with his arms crossed, his eyes steady on my reflection in the mirror. From his expression it was clear he had been standing there long enough to hear everything.

My heart dropped to the floor.

"I… I."

Mr. Clinton turned back to me.

"My office," he said. "Now."

He walked away without waiting for my response.

By the time I reached his office, Juliana was already gone.

He was standing behind his desk. He didn't invite me to sit.

"What gave you the right," he said, his voice controlled and low, "to lay your filthy hands on my fiancée?"

"Sir, with due respect, my hands are not filthy." My voice came out smaller than I intended but I held the words. "She started it."

"Are you challenging me?" His voice rose. "You're fired."

My mind moved fast and cold beneath the surface. Fired meant leaving the building. Leaving meant losing access to everything I had spent three weeks quietly building toward. The files. The contract. The connection to my father's name that had brought me here in the first place.

I could not lose this job.

I lowered myself to my knees before I had fully decided to do it.

"Sir, please." I kept my eyes down. "I'm sorry for my reaction. I should have walked away. I know that." My voice stayed low, careful. "Please. I need this job."

He said nothing for a long moment.

"You may leave," he said quietly.

I rose slowly. Wiped my face with the back of my hand. Turned toward the door.

"Who says I'm done with you?”

I stopped.

Turned back.

"Sir?"

"Have a seat." He chuckled. "You're going nowhere."

I wiped my face properly this time and sat down.

"You are the first person in this building who has ever challenged Juliana. The very first." He shook his head slightly. "It tells me you know your worth. You respect yourself."

"Thank you for your su…" I stopped myself. The word "support" had almost come out. "Thank you for seeing what is right, sir."

He looked at me for a moment in a way I couldn't immediately read. Then he sat forward.

"I think you have something that belongs to me. You also look more familiar than you are letting on, and I pray my guess is not wrong.”

“Excuse me, Sir. I don't know what you're talking about” I lied.

"You're hiding something," he said. Not accusing. Simply stating a fact he had already decided on. "And whatever it is, it walked into this building the same day you did."

I said nothing.

He picked up his phone and typed something brief.

"My driver will meet you downstairs at seven," he said without looking up.

"Sir, I…"

"You can open up to me." He finally looked up. "Or you can come in tomorrow and we pretend this conversation never happened." A pause. "Your choice, Mira."

The way he said my name told me he was already questioning it.

I picked up my bag.

"I will be downstairs at seven," I said quietly.