Bloom of Deception

EpisodeFive

Bleeding Wounds

Samantha stepped into the cozy office that felt like heaven, destabilized and uncoordinated, with many thoughts running through her mind.

‘Is it possible that this organization still belongs to the Reeds and I don’t know? Is Marcus still monitoring me?

The only person that has this new line is Blackwood Associates organization because I applied for a job, my mom and Lila. Is anyone feeding him with my info from this circle?

In her deep thought came a beautiful voice like that of a river bird. “Miss Samantha, follow me,” as the receptionist led her to the polished conference room, where a panel of three men awaited.

The lead interviewer cleared her throat. “Ms Reed? We’re ready to begin. In a few words, tell us about yourself.

Samantha: I am Samantha Reed, once a marketing head in Reed’s establishment, and I studied marketing at university… (Though trying to gather her words and hide her tension, it was obvious that she was not alright, and suddenly the man cut in.)

Interviewer: Tell us why you want to join Blackwood & Associates.”

Samantha: I want to join because I believe I can input my long-term skills to achieve the organizational goal and in turn make me push to the next phase (there was war within Samantha; the more she tried to cover up and comport herself, the more obvious it became).

Interviewer 3: It’s OK; you will hear from us soon.

Samantha: Oook, thank you, sir.

“Good luck at Blackwood! I’ll be watching.” Still ringing a bell in her head like a drum meant for a local community meeting, she gazed at the phone as she managed to find her way outside the office. Her thumb hovered over the block button, but deleting it felt like erasing evidence.

She shoved the phone back into her purse, glancing around the estate grounds as if she might be lurking behind every oak; her eyes landed on the gardener again, the tall man by the rosebush, shears in hand. He was still watching her, his dark, deep-set eyes steady and unblinking, like he was assessing more than just a stranger on the property. It unnerved her, that quiet confidence, but she shook it off.

She needed this job; she needed to find out how Marcus had found his way into her new life, and at the same time, she needed to prove that she could stand on her own.

As she turned towards the car pack section of the mansion, a sharp hiss cut through the air. The gardener jerked his hand back, dropping the shears. Blood welled from his left finger, dripping onto the soil. He pressed it with his other hand, wincing but calm, like pain was just another task to manage.

Samantha froze mid-step. Instinct kicked in, the same pull that made her stop for stray cats or forgotten umbrellas. “Are you okay?” she called, already veering off the path toward him.

He looked up, surprise flickering in those observant eyes. Up close, he was taller than she’d thought, powerfully built under the simple work shirt, with a neatly groomed beard that softened his masculine features. “It’s nothing,” he said, voice low and even, never rising above a rumble. “Just a slip.”

“Let me see. That looks deep.” Without thinking, she pulled a clean tissue from her purse, an old habit from Ethan’s scraped knees and gently took his hand.

The cut was clean but bleeding steadily) “You need to stop the flow. Do you have a first-aid kit nearby? He tilted his head, studying her with that patient gaze. “In the shed over there, but I can handle it; you look like you’re headed somewhere important.”

“The interview – I just finished my interview, “ Samantha admitted,

Gardener: How was the interview?

Samantha: Hmmmmmm, just believing in a miracle, ( As she pressed the tissue to his finger) “ hold still.” She said as She wrapped it snugly, her fingers brushing his warm, calloused, steady ones. “that should hold until you get proper bandages.” She said

Gardener: Thank you very much for your kind heart.

Samantha: It’s nothing, just trying to help.

Gardener: I am Henry, the gardener on this estate.

Samantha: 'Nice meeting you; please always be careful,' she said absent-mindedly as she was about to turn away.

Henry: Sounding unsure about your interview? Why?

Samantha: Something personal, yeah, extremely personal. I. I. I.

She is trying to find words to cover the mess that had happened a few minutes ago in there.)

Henry: (Eyes still fixed on her as though he was trying to picture her past)

Can I get some copies of your credentials? I will help you get the job.

At first, Samantha’s mind thought, “What has a mere gardener got to know about job interviews and even helping me secure the job in a prestigious organization like this? If he was that good, why didn’t he apply for a position in this firm? But let me just… as she reached out for her phone to collect his number and forward the information with no expectations.

Samantha: I have forwarded it to your w******p (as she begins to exit the garden).

Henry: “You’ll do fine; you will get the job,” he said with quiet certainty. “People like you, resilient ones: they always land on their feet.”

These words hit deeper than they should, stirring something warm and unfamiliar in her chest. Samantha glanced back at Henry, who was picking up his shears again. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She said.

He nodded, but as she walked away, she felt his gaze follow her.

The thought twisted inside her like a thorn.

What if the gardener wasn’t just a gardener?