Chapter5
1428 Words
The Door That Shouldn’t Have Opened
By the time I reached my apartment door, my shoulders were aching and my head felt too heavy for my neck to support. I fumbled inside my bag for my keys, fingers numb with exhaustion.
Bang.
The bag slipped from my grasp and hit the floor, its contents scattering like they were mocking me—lip gloss rolling under the shoe rack, a notebook flopping open, loose papers sliding across the tiles.
I stared at the mess for a long second.
“What a great day,” I muttered, forcing out a tired laugh that held no humor.
I crouched down slowly, gathering everything back into the bag, my movements sluggish. Once I finally found my keys, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. I kicked the door shut behind me, locked it, and walked straight to my bedroom like a ghost haunting her own space.
The moment my body hit the mattress, it was like gravity doubled. I sank into the bed, staring at the ceiling, my limbs refusing to move.
“Finally… over,” I whispered.
My phone rang.
The sound felt unnaturally loud in the quiet room. I groaned, reaching blindly until my fingers closed around it. Alia’s name glowed on the screen.
I answered without sitting up. “Hello,” I croaked.
“Hey, baby girl,” Alia’s voice sang through the speaker, bright and teasing. “From that voice alone, I can tell you had a very full first day of work. How was it?”
I hesitated. Then everything burst out.
“Waaaah, it was a disaster.”
There was a pause, then a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “What happened? Someone bullying you? Say the word and I’ll come kick some ass.”
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “Yeah, someone is bullying me. But you can’t kick his ass because he happens to be my direct boss. And also the CEO of Hartfelt Enterprises.”
Silence.
Then—“Oh shit.”
“And,” I added quietly, “our first encounter apparently put a target on my head.”
Alia recovered quickly. “Wait. How did that happen? You guys had a one-night stand? Damsel-in-distress situation? Or—oh, oh—was it a flirty first encounter?”
I could practically hear her wiggling her eyebrows.
“No,” I said flatly. “None of the above. And please remove your mind from the gutter.”
She laughed. I sighed and continued, the words tumbling out faster now.
“I bumped into him on the day of my interview. He made some comments that rubbed me the wrong way, so I called him a rude snob. I didn’t know he was part of the interviewing team. I definitely didn’t know he was the leader of the whole company.”
“And you still got the job?” she asked.
“Exactly. Now I know why. He wasn’t just on the panel—he is the panel. And now he’s making me pay for it.”
“Wow,” Alia said slowly. “What an encounter. Is he at least handsome?”
I scoffed. “Well… he is, but why is that important right now?”
“It’s very important,” she said seriously. “If he’s handsome, you could try seducing him. Or do you want to quit?”
“Hell no,” I shot back. “I don’t care what he does. I’m not giving up a high-paying job because of one petty CEO.”
“Yes!” she cheered. “That’s the spirit. Go get the bag, girl. Though…” she hesitated. “We could get someone to teach him a lesson.”
I snorted. “Who do you know willing to mess with the CEO of the Hartfelt Group? And can you even afford their price?”
“Fair point,” she admitted. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll handle it myself.”
That earned a laugh from me, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “Thanks, babe. I’m going to sleep before I pass out standing.”
“Goodnight, baby girl,” she said softly.
I ended the call and dragged myself into the bathroom. The cold water from the shower hit my skin like needles—shock and relief all at once. When I finally climbed into bed in my nightwear, I didn’t remember closing my eyes.
The alarm shrieked like a threat.
I jolted awake, heart racing. “Agrhhh… time for another day,” I groaned into my pillow.
My body protested every movement as I rolled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. I moved on autopilot—brush teeth, wash face, throw on clothes.
Then I checked the time.
“Oh shit.”
Panic snapped me fully awake. I rushed out the door, but fate clearly wasn’t on my side. Traffic crawled like it was enjoying my misery.
By the time I reached the office, breathless and flustered, my heart sank.
He was already there.
Standing near my desk. Watching.
“s**t,” I whispered under my breath.
I straightened, forced a smile, and walked toward him. “Um… good morning, sir.”
“Oh,” he said smoothly, lips curving in that infuriating way. “Good morning, Miss Louise. You finally decided to join us.”
His tone was polite. His eyes were not.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said quickly. “There was traffic. It won’t happen again.”
“I hope so,” he replied, the smirk unmistakable.
He turned and waved Alan over. Without warning, a heavy thud echoed as a towering stack of documents was dropped onto my desk. It was so tall it nearly blocked my view.
“You will organize those,” he said calmly, “alphabetically and by order of importance.”
I swallowed. “Sir, wouldn’t it be more efficient to—”
“No,” he cut in pleasantly. “I want it done the old way. Analogue.”
My jaw tightened.
“And,” he continued, as if he were being generous, “you have until closing. Make me a coffee first. Oh—and the samples I sent you for the new project? Edit, organize, and print them. I want hard copies by the end of the day.”
Something inside my smile cracked.
“Yes, sir,” I said through clenched teeth.
The coffee was rejected three times.
Too hot. Too bitter. Wrong cup.
By the time it was finally accepted, my hands were shaking—not from fear, but fury. I spent the entire day buried in paperwork, barely lifting my head. When he passed by hours later, he paused.
“Oh,” he said lightly. “You’re still not done?”
“No, sir,” I replied, forcing calm. “But I will be soon.”
“I believe in you,” he said mockingly. “Good luck.”
He left.
Three hours later, long after most of the office lights had gone dark, I finally finished. My muscles screamed as I leaned back in my chair.
“s**t,” I muttered. “How am I supposed to give him the hard copy now?”
Tomorrow would only give him another reason to nitpick. I rummaged through my drawer until I found the paper Alan had given me—Conor Hartfelt’s address. And the password to his penthouse.
I grabbed the documents and called a taxi.
The building loomed tall and silent when I arrived. I entered the password.
The door opened.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Inside, the penthouse was dark, illuminated only by pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. The air felt… wrong. Cold. Heavy. Like it was holding its breath.
“Sir?” I called.
No response.
I stepped further in, my footsteps echoing too loudly. A sound reached my ears—low, strained. Like someone in pain.
My pulse quickened.
A shadow moved.
“Sir?” I asked again, my voice trembling.
The shadow slipped down the hallway. Against every instinct screaming at me to leave, I followed. One door stood ajar.
My hands shook as I reached for it, sweat slick on my palms.
Be brave, girl. Think of the money.
I pushed the door open.
The bedroom was dim. The bed dominated the room. The sheets moved.
“Sir… are you okay?” I whispered.
I stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.
When I lifted the sheets—
I gasped.
- Writer
