Chapter 5
1359 Words
Edward
by day, im someone else.
the office version of me wears tailored shirts and a controlled expression, the kind that makes people sit up straighter without knowing why. Glass walls. Quiet authority. decicions made in measured tones that ripple outward through department and lives.
By night, i pull on dark T-shirts, roll up my sleeves, and stand behind a counter where no one looks twice at the man who refills cups and whipes tables.
Grace only knows one of those men.
And i intend to keep it that way.
Her internship application sits open on my screen before noon, routed through the school's referral system exactly the way it should be. clean. proper. earned.
Grace Andrews.
GPA that speaks for its self.
Work history that tells the real story-late nights, early mornings, no safety net.
I already know she deserves this.
But deserving isn't enough. it has to look right.
"Walk me through her file" i say, leaning back in my chair as my legal director stands across from my desk.
"She didn't apply directly," she says. "the school submitted her name on performance matrics."
"as required,"
"she's impressive" the director adds " but you dont usally involve yourself with internes."
i met her gaze calmly
" i do when talent shouldnt be lost to circimstance."
thats the end of it.
"offer her the potition," i continue. " paid.flexiable. remote work available. Schedule adjusted around night classes."
"and companstion?" she asks.
i dont hesitate. "enough that she dont need a secound job."
she nods, typing quickly. "we'll notify her by email."
"no," i say.
she looks up. "sir?"
" call her," i repeat. " this matters"
she unterstands they always do.
when she leaves i dont feel accomplished.
i feel closer.
it should stop there.
it doesnt.
Later that afternoon, while reviewing unrelated finacial reports, a familiar name surfaces in a housing assistace ledger tied to a foundation i quietly fund. i dont usually look at individual cases.
but this time i do.
Grace Andrews.
Two months behind on rent.
Final notice issued.
my jaw tightens.
She never said a word.
i picture her apartment, the one ive seen lit up late at night. the one she leaves every morning pretending she isn't scared of losing.
not under my name.
not under my company.
through a housing trust with no identifiable donor.
back rent paid in full.
future credit applied.
I lean back in my chair, fingers steepled, breathing steady.
She'll find out soon.
She always does.
GRACE
The call comes in while i'm re reading the same paragraph for the fifth time.
i almost ignore it.
almost.
"grace Andrews?" a woman asks.
"yes"
“This is Claire Whitman with Hale & Crowe Legal. We’re calling to formally offer you a paid internship with our firm.”
My pen slips from my fingers.
“I—what?”
“You were referred through your law school’s system,” she continues smoothly. “Your academic record stood out.”
Stood out.
That’s not something anyone’s ever said to me before.
“It’s flexible,” she adds. “Structured around your course schedule. Compensation included.”
I say yes before she finishes.
After I hang up, I just sit there, heart pounding, staring at the wall like it might explain how my life flipped upside down in one afternoon.
Then my phone buzzes again.
RENT BALANCE UPDATE: PAID IN FULL
CREDIT APPLIED TO FUTURE MONTHS
My stomach drops.
I log into the portal, hands shaking. The balance that’s haunted me for weeks—gone. Zeroed out. A credit sitting there like a miracle I didn’t ask for.
“No,” I whisper.
This isn’t random.
This is coordinated.
My thoughts spiral, searching for logic, for reason—and then, against my will, a face flashes in my mind.
Edward.
The late-night coffee cashier. The man who works too much, remembers too much, notices when I’m not okay.
It doesn’t make sense.
He works nights. He’s tired. He jokes about caffeine like it’s keeping him alive.
He couldn’t afford this.
He couldn’t know this.
And yet…
My phone buzzes again.
Edward: You coming by tonight?
I stare at the message longer than necessary.
Me: Yeah. I’ll be there.
EDWARD
I change before my night shift.
Office clothes off. Coffee shop clothes on. The transformation is deliberate—part habit, part armor. By the time I lock up the office and drive across town, I’m someone else again.
Someone harmless.
Someone she trusts.
She walks in just after eight, and the second I see her face, I know.
She knows something.
Not everything. Not yet.
But the edge is there now—alertness sharpening her gaze, curiosity tightening her posture.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she replies, watching me like she’s seeing me for the first time.
She doesn’t order right away.
That’s new.
“I got an internship today,” she says.
I keep my voice steady. “Congratulations.”
“With Hale & Crowe.”
A beat.
“Impressive firm,” I reply.
“They called,” she adds. “Didn’t email.”
“Means they wanted you,” I say easily.
She nods slowly. “And my back rent got paid.”
I don’t react.
Not visibly.
Silence stretches between us, thick with things unsaid.
“Not a loan,” she continues. “Not a scholarship. Just… gone.”
I meet her gaze. “Sounds like someone was looking out for you.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “That’s the part that’s bothering me.”
“Why?”
“Because someone knows too much,” she says. “My school. My rent. My schedule.”
She watches my face carefully.
I give her nothing.
“You think it’s the same person?” I ask.
She nods. “I do.”
“And that scares you?”
She exhales. “A little.”
That’s fair.
GRACE
I don’t accuse him.
But I don’t stop watching either.
The way he moves behind the counter—confident, efficient. The way other employees glance at him before making decisions. The way he never seems surprised by anything I say.
“You work here every night,” I say casually. “And during the day?”
He shrugs. “Office job.”
“What kind?”
“Depends on the day.”
That answer sits wrong.
“You’re vague,” I say.
He smiles slightly. “You’re observant.”
I lean back, crossing my arms loosely. “You don’t feel like someone who’s struggling.”
His jaw tightens for half a second.
“Appearances lie,” he says.
We fall into a quiet that feels charged, like the air before a storm.
When our hands brush accidentally passing a receipt, the contact sends a jolt straight through me. I pull back too fast.
He notices.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, breathless. “Just… processing.”
My phone buzzes again.
Another confirmation.
INTERNSHIP ONBOARDING — START DATE CONFIRMED
He watches my expression change.
“More good news?” he asks.
I hesitate. “Too much good news.”
He studies me. “That’s not a bad thing.”
“Depends,” I say quietly, “on what it costs.”
Something dark and unreadable passes through his eyes.
“If it cost you your independence,” he says carefully, “would you want it?”
I swallow.
“No.”
He nods. “Then don’t give it up.”
Our eyes lock.
And for the first time, I wonder—
Not if Edward is connected to all of this.
But how.
EDWARD
She’s circling now.
Closer than ever.
And I’m standing right in front of her wearing the mask she trusts, knowing exactly how fragile that trust is.
I’ve blurred lines. Crossed others.
But every move I’ve made was to steady her footing, not pull her off balance.
When the truth comes out—and it will—I won’t apologize.
Because I didn’t do this to own her.
I did it so she could stand tall enough to choose me.
And that choice?
It’s coming.
- Writer
