Chapter 4 – The First Glimpse
856 Words
The elevator dinged.
Rhea’s fingers froze on her keyboard.
It was subtle, barely a sound. But the energy in the office shifted the moment the doors slid open.
Conversations died. Laughter vanished like smoke. The tapping of keyboards slowed, and heads dipped lower.
He was here.
Damian Cole.
Her eyes flicked up—careful, casual.
He stepped out like he owned the floor. And he did.
Tall, crisp suit. Silver watch catching the light. That same stormy expression that made you feel like breathing wrong might offend him.
He didn’t look around. Didn’t acknowledge anyone. Just walked straight down the hallway, focused, unreadable.
Rhea watched through the glass panel at the edge of her desk. Her chest tightened—not from nerves, but something deeper. Anger? Maybe.
He didn’t remember her. Of course not.
To him, she was just another forgettable face in the crowd.
But she remembered everything.
The headlines.
The courtroom.
The disgrace.
Her father’s voice breaking as he said goodbye from behind bars, before the “accident” took him days later.
And somewhere behind all that, the name: ColeTech—the empire that chewed up her family and spat them out like they were nothing.
She swallowed.
This was why she was here.
To dismantle it from the inside.
And yet, her hand trembled slightly on the mouse.
“Damn,” someone whispered near her. “He’s even colder today.”
Rhea glanced up. The girl two desks away had leaned toward her, whispering with her lips barely moving.
“Excuse me?” Rhea asked.
The girl smiled. “Sorry. I’m Mira. Don’t worry. Everyone stares a little the first time he walks in.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
Mira gave her a knowing look. “Sure.”
Rhea tried to smile back. Mira seemed… friendly. Not overly nosy. Just real.
“He’s always like that?” Rhea asked casually.
“Worse, usually,” Mira said. “Unless he’s in meetings with investors—then he grows charm like a second skin.”
Rhea raised a brow. “So he can be human when it benefits him?”
Mira laughed. “Exactly. Welcome to ColeTech.”
For the first time, Rhea felt a strange warmth spread through her chest. Not comfort. Not belonging. But the tiniest crack in her armor.
People here weren’t robots.
And neither was she.
She was still Rhea—the woman her father raised. But now, with a sharper tongue, steadier hands, and a heart hardened by pain.
**
Later that day, Catherine appeared again, clipboard in hand.
“You,” she pointed. “Up.”
Rhea blinked. “Me?”
“You’re shadowing the morning prep team. Let’s go. You’re behind.”
Rhea grabbed her notepad and followed. Mira gave her a sympathetic look as she left.
They walked through two glass doors and into a quieter hall with wood-paneled walls and soft lighting.
“Where are we going?” Rhea asked.
“Conference Level 2,” Catherine replied, not slowing down. “Cole has a strategy meet with the international team. You’ll watch how preps are done. Learn something.”
Rhea nodded.
Her heels echoed faintly behind Catherine’s sharp clicks. The air here felt different—cooler. Heavier.
When they reached the door, Catherine turned to her. “Don’t speak. Don’t smile. Don’t breathe too loud. Understand?”
Rhea gave a stiff nod.
Catherine pushed the door open.
The room inside was sleek, cold, high-tech. Glass walls. Minimal furniture. A long table with ten chairs, most still empty.
But he was already there.
Damian stood near the head of the table, speaking into his phone. His voice was calm but firm, clipped in a way that made it hard to tell if he was angry or just always sounded that way.
“No, I said Singapore gets priority. Reschedule Frankfurt. If they have a problem, tell them to email me directly.”
He ended the call and turned.
And their eyes met.
Just for a second.
His gaze flicked over her—curious, sharp, then indifferent.
“Who’s that?” he asked Catherine.
“New hire. Shadowing. Ignore her.”
“I always do,” he said flatly, sitting down.
Rhea clenched her notepad tighter.
Her heart pounded—but not from fear. From something deeper. That familiar cocktail of fury and something disturbingly like fascination.
He wasn’t just arrogant.
He was unreachable. Closed off. Walled in.
And yet, she swore… just for a second… his expression had cracked when their eyes met.
Like he’d seen something he wasn’t ready for.
Or remembered something he couldn’t place.
She sat in the corner quietly, pretending to take notes. But her mind was racing.
She’d studied him for years.
But now she saw what the articles never captured.
The loneliness in his silence.
The weariness in his eyes.
The way his fingers tapped once—just once—before every decision.
Damian Cole was not just her target.
He was a puzzle.
A broken prince sitting on a throne of steel.
And she was going to tear his kingdom apart—one crack at a time.
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- Writer
