Rumors andReality
1276 Words
The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and clinking cutlery, but to Marie, it all sounded like static.
Her head throbbed, her shoulders ached, and her half-eaten sandwich sat forgotten beside her laptop.
She had tried, really tried, to get the logistics report halfway done before lunch, but between endless calls, unexpected emails, and the mountain of pending requests from her old projects, she’d barely made it through a quarter.
It felt like the universe had conspired to bury her in spreadsheets and deadlines.
“I swear, if I see one more column of data today, I’m going to set this computer on fire,” she muttered, stabbing at a piece of lettuce in frustration.
Johnny sat across from her, sipping juice through a straw like someone who hadn’t a single worry in the world.
“You know, for someone who’s only been given one special task by the new boss, you’re already falling apart.”
“‘Special task,’” she echoed bitterly. “You mean suicide mission.”
He laughed. “You make it sound dramatic.”
“It is dramatic. He wants a full logistics report by end of day. End of today, Johnny. Do you know how much that entails?”
He shrugged. “You’re good with numbers.”
“Numbers don’t magically process themselves!” she snapped, then sighed, rubbing her temples. “Sorry. I just… I barely have time to breathe, and now he’s watching every move I make.”
Johnny leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You mean Mr. Reid?”
Marie glanced around automatically, making sure no one was listening. “Yes. Him.”
Johnny’s grin was mischievous. “I heard something.”
“Oh, here we go,” she groaned. “If this is another wild rumor about him secretly firing half the team”
“It’s not that,” he interrupted, eyes gleaming. “It’s bigger. Apparently, he’s not just anyone. Word going around says he’s actually Mr. Harrison’s son.”
Marie froze, fork midair. “What?”
“That’s what I heard. Someone from HR let it slip. They say he’s been running the U.S. branch for the past three years. Top performer. Cold, brilliant, terrifyingly efficient, their words, not mine.”
She stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious.” He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying her shock.
“And get this, rumor says he’s moving here permanently. Like, for good. The board wanted someone younger to modernize the company, and apparently, Daddy dearest thinks no one’s more qualified than his golden boy.”
Marie’s heart sank. Permanently.
The word echoed in her mind like a warning bell.
She forced out a laugh, though it sounded brittle. “Well, that’s just great. My boss’s son hates me. That’s a wonderful career move, isn’t it?”
Johnny smirked. “Maybe he doesn’t hate you. Maybe he’s just… particular.”
“Particular?” she repeated incredulously. “Johnny, he gave me the hardest report in the department, on my first day under him. He could’ve assigned it to anyone, but no. He chose me.”
“Maybe he trusts you.”
“Or maybe he wants me to fail,” she said softly.
Johnny’s teasing grin faltered. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
Marie exhaled, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know what to think anymore. He barely knows me, yet every time he looks at me, it’s like he’s already decided I’m not good enough.”
Her words hung between them, heavy, raw.
For a long moment, the noise of the cafeteria filled the silence. Plates clattered, people laughed, someone dropped a tray. But Marie barely heard any of it.
All she could think of was Alexander’s face, unreadable, precise, distant.
She remembered how his voice had sounded that morning when he’d said, You wouldn’t want to give me another reason to think you’re unprofessional.
That tone. Cool and calm, like he already held the verdict to a trial she hadn’t realized she was part of.
Johnny reached across the table, tapping her wrist. “Hey. Don’t spiral. You’ve handled worse.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Not like this. Not with him watching.”
“Well,” Johnny said, lowering his voice again, “if it helps, the others are terrified too. No one wants to end up on his radar.”
“That doesn’t help,” she said flatly.
He chuckled, finishing his drink. “Okay, okay. But seriously — relax. Do the best you can. You’re one of the sharpest analysts here. He’ll see that eventually.”
Marie wanted to believe him. She really did. But something in Alexander’s eyes told her he wasn’t the type to “eventually” come around.
She looked down at her half-finished meal and sighed. “I should get back. The longer I sit here, the worse this gets.”
Johnny stood with her. “Don’t let him get under your skin. He’s human. Probably.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Dr. Phil,” she muttered as they walked back toward the elevators.
By the time she returned to her desk, her head was pounding again. Her inbox had tripled in new messages, most marked urgent.
The screen blurred slightly as she stared at the spreadsheet columns. Numbers, percentages, freight costs, delivery schedules, all swimming in front of her eyes like an ocean she couldn’t swim through fast enough.
The clock on her screen read 3:42 p.m.
The deadline loomed like a storm cloud.
Every time she thought she was making progress, another email popped up demanding clarification or another file to add. She typed until her fingers cramped, reviewing formulas, correcting figures, cross-referencing data. Her eyes burned from staring at the monitor.
By five, she had managed just over half.
Her coffee had gone cold. Her back ached. And her stomach twisted every time she thought of handing in something incomplete.
When she finally pushed away from her desk, the office had begun to thin out. Most of her colleagues were packing up, eager to escape the tension that came with a new executive watching everyone’s performance like a hawk.
But Marie couldn’t leave. Not yet.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Johnny.
Johnny: “Still alive”
Marie: “Barely. I’m not done. He’s expecting me before I go.”
Johnny: “Good luck. If you don’t make it out, I’ll steal your stapler.”
She smiled despite herself, typing, Not funny. But her hands were trembling slightly.
She saved the file again, checked the clock, 5:57 p.m.
Three minutes to six.
She swallowed hard, closing her laptop with a quiet snap. Her reflection in the dark screen looked pale and tense.
Outside her glass cubicle, the hallway stretched toward Alexander’s office. His door was half-shut, a faint light spilling through.
Every step she took felt heavier than the last. The soft click of her heels on the tiled floor echoed louder than it should have.
By the time she reached his door, her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
She lifted her hand to knock, then froze.
Through the small opening, she saw him inside, sleeves rolled up, pen in hand, head bent over a document. He looked impossibly focused, impossibly composed.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Marie took a slow breath. Her fingers hovered an inch from the door.
This is it, she thought. Whatever happens next decides everything.
Then, before she could talk herself out of it,
She knocked.
Once.
Twice.
And the door slowly began to open.
- Writer
