For Eli
1064 Words
CHAPTER 8: For Eli
The envelope sat on the edge of the nightstand like it was mocking me.
VELTRIX TECHNOLOGIES
I’d read it five times already, maybe six. I couldn’t stop. Every line blurred, then sharpened again, like it was taunting me reminding me that this wasn’t some sick dream.
| POSITION: Entry Level – Public Relations Department
| REPORTING SUPERVISOR: Miss Helena Hart
| START DATE: Immediate
Immediate.
My entire world tilted yesterday. Ripped out from under me by a man who didn’t even blink when he threatened me.
My brother’s savior.
My personal nightmare.
I let the letter fall into my lap and stared at the ceiling like it might have answers.
Ping.
Ping.
“Naomi.”
“Reina? Finally! Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened yesterday? You just left the hospital—”
“Naomi…” I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m fine.”
“Fine? You disappeared. I called you like fifty times. And now you’re just… fine? Where’s Eli? What happened?”
I hesitated, staring down at my bare feet. “He’s okay. He’s… he’s been moved. He’s getting better treatment.”
“You’re acting off. What’s going on?”
“I— I can’t explain right now.” My throat burned. “Just trust me, okay? Eli’s safe.”
There was a pause. Then her voice softened.
“And you? Are you safe?”
“I have to go. I’m starting a new job today.”
“A new job? What happened to—?”
“Bye, Naomi.”
I hung up before she could keep pressing. I hated lying to her, but I hated the truth even more.
What was I supposed to say?
That I’d been blackmailed into working for a man I hated?
That my brother’s life now dangled at the mercy of someone who knew how to gut a person with just words?
---
Today was the worst possible day to get caught in New York’s crawling traffic.
Every red light felt like a personal insult.
7:45 a.m.
Fifteen minutes left.
“Come on. Move. This ain’t your backyard,” I muttered, gripping the wheel.
Why was the driver in front of me acting like we were on a Sunday cruise?
I didn’t want to show up late. But on the other hand… what happens if I do?
Immediate termination?
A strike on my record?
Or worse. Does Adrian use it as an excuse to take it out on my brother?
The thought clawed at my throat.
---
Ten minutes.
The engine gave a final, exhausted hiss as I turned the key.
I didn’t move.
All around me, the underground parking lot glimmered like a showroom. Sleek machines lined in perfect rows. Glossy, spotless, powerful. Porsches. Audis. Bentleys.
The red Jaguar beside me looked like it had never met a scratch in its life.
And then…
There was my car.
Dull paint. Slightly chipped side mirror. The soft, pathetic hum of an engine that wheezed if I turned the A/C too high.
It wasn’t even about the car. Not really.
It was the reminder that I didn’t belong here.
This world. The elevators, the polished heels, the tailored blazers was never meant for girls like me.
Girls who clawed their way through internships, lived off caffeine and anxiety, and prayed their brother wouldn’t die because they couldn’t afford better.
Now I was here.
Not because I earned it.
But because he said so.
Because he snapped his fingers and the world shifted around him.
I hated that.
I hated that it worked.
I stared through the windshield at the entrance ahead. Clean glass doors. Big Veltrix logo shining like a seal of judgment.
And inside… God knows how many eyes waiting to clock me the second I stepped in.
They’d take one look and know I didn’t fit.
That someone placed me here like a broken puzzle piece.
They’d whisper. Or worse pretend I didn’t exist at all.
My palms were damp. I wiped them on my skirt.
“This isn’t about you. It’s about Eli. Everything else is background noise.”
I reached for the door handle, hesitated, then dropped my head against the steering wheel.
“Reina, don’t cry. You’ve survived worse. Just get through the day.”
Breaking down here, in this stupid car, wasn’t an option. If I did, it was over.
I could hate him all I wanted. I could burn with every breath.
But if I wanted my brother safe. If I wanted even a shred of control back. I had to play the game.
No matter how ugly it felt.
So, I swallowed the knot in my throat, pulled my shoulders back, and stepped out.
I wasn’t ready.
But I walked anyway.
---
Inside the lobby, everything gleamed. The floor. The walls. Even the people.
No one looked up as I entered.
At least that was a relief.
After a few failed attempts to catch someone’s attention, I approached the front desk.
“Hi… uhm, I’m supposed to report to the PR department.”
The woman behind the desk glanced at me, then tapped her tablet. “Name?”
“Reina Moretti.”
Her brow twitched. Recognition or judgment. I couldn’t tell.
“Third floor, first left down the hall. You’ll see the sign.”
“Thanks.”
No reply. Not even a nod. Mmph. Rude.
---
I followed the directions to the sign that read:
PUBLIC RELATIONS DEPARTMENT
“Don’t trip. Don’t stammer. Don’t look like prey.”
One breath. Two.
Then I pushed the door open.
The room hummed with activity. Rows of desks, bright monitors, and a large digital dashboard displaying real-time PR analytics.
Everyone looked busy. Too busy to notice the awkward woman hovering in the doorway like she’d taken the wrong turn into a parallel universe.
A few young executives walked past, coffee cups and folders in hand.
One of them a brunette with sleek hair and killer heels seemed less busy than the rest.
I walked up to her slowly, forcing my voice to work.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for Miss Helena Hart?”
The woman looked up, slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable.
Her eyes moved over me my shoes, my face, my clothes, my bag.
Everywhere.
Then she blinked once, expression unreadable.
“That would be me.”
- Writer
