ChapterFour
1017 Words
MORGAN’S POV
I can’t shake off the feeling that he is the same guy who stayed up all night with me five years ago. But is he pretending not to recognize me, or does he really not remember me?
His voice had echoed in my head since that day, and even if I had not gotten pregnant, I would have still wanted a chance to meet him again. But I was pained that he left the way he did. However, right now, what matters more is survival first.
My eyes scanned the room and landed on him as he spoke with the team. Automatically, I started to make notes because I wanted to make a good impression on him—as my boss… or would-be boss.
I could see Clara looking at me from the corner of her eyes. She hates me, and I’m very sure she’ll make my life difficult if I end up working here.
It’s my second day and I’ve already made an enemy. Classic Morgan.
The meeting ends, and as I wait for everyone to leave the room, Clara stops beside me.
“You haven’t won,” she says, then walks away.
“What is her problem?” another staff member says. I didn’t even realize we were the only two left. She looks like she has something against Clara. I don’t feel like joining her in her issues, but she is obviously a kindred spirit.
“Hmm.”
“Pardon me, I’m Grace—the finance manager. You’re the new girl, right?”
I suddenly feel skeptical about talking to her.
“I have to go. The boss will be mad if I don’t get the report to him.”
She nods, and I walk away. I head straight for Damien’s office like I was instructed the previous day. When I knock, I hear his voice telling me to come in, but when I enter, I see someone else sitting there. He has a cast around his arm, but aside from that, everything about him screams luxury and class.
“I know I have that effect,” the man jokes.
I smile a little and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Drop it and leave for now,” Damien says coldly, and I nod.
“Come on, man. You’re not going to introduce me to your new assistant?”
“Technically, she’s not my assistant yet. But does it matter?”
He ignores Damien and turns to me, extending the hand that isn’t wrapped in bandages.
“I’m Tyler—the one and only vice president.”
Oh. That makes a lot more sense.
I take his hand but don’t say anything else as Damien gestures for me to leave the room. I do, closing the door behind me, unable to shake off the cold look on Damien’s face.
Well, it hasn’t even been two days. I can’t expect to impress him so fast.
I take out a picture of my son and touch it lightly. It will only be for a while, and I’ll hang in here—for him. Only for him.
I take my seat at the desk the receptionist gave me and begin searching for anything that can help me perform better.
Suddenly, someone drops a huge heap of papers beside me. When I look up, it’s Clara.
“I need you to sort these files by name, date, and category. And I need them in thirty minutes.”
She says it bluntly, and as I look at the impossible amount of work she expects me to finish in thirty minutes, my heart skips a beat. I want to tell her it’s not possible, but I can’t. I just get to work immediately after she leaves.
Thirty minutes later, she’s already breathing down my neck. I finally finish in forty minutes, but not long after, I’m called into the boss’s office—and she’s there, standing in front of him, giving me an accusing look.
“I told her not to do anything with the files. And she didn’t even tell me when I asked for them that she had messed with it.”
What in God’s name is she talking about?
Damien sits there, looking up at me without saying a word. It’s as if his gaze will burn right through me if it lasts any longer.
“I have no idea what she is talking about,” I say.
She cuts in sharply, “Look at her. She won’t even take responsibility. Why in the world would you touch something I only asked you to hold onto!”
Damien gestures to the files. “You rearranged them. Why?”
“Because she—”
“It doesn’t matter why, because that is exactly what I needed to get done. Thank you. You may go, Clara.”
“What?”
The room suddenly grows cold as Clara looks from me to him, opening her mouth to speak but unable to say anything before storming out of the office.
What the hell just happened?
I had not expected that. I thought this would be the end—that he would ask me to stop working. But it looks like I’ll live another day.
“Thank you, sir,” I say.
“I didn’t do that so you could thank me. You took initiative. I appreciate that. You may leave.”
I nod and turn to go.
“On the other hand,” he says, “I was wondering… have we met before?”
Oh no.
What if I tell him I think he was the man who had s*x with me and made me pregnant? What if he throws me out? Or what if—maybe—he had been looking for me too and would welcome me with open arms?
But that’s very unlikely.
Anything could go wrong from here, but I really don’t want that.
So even if it hurts me to say I don’t know him, it’s the best thing I can do for myself right now.
“No… we haven’t.”
- Writer
