Chapter Three – Wolves in Silk Suits
786 Words
The next morning, the Vale Corporation was buzzing like a hive of power and whispers.
Elena sat stiffly at her desk in the intern bullpen, fingers frozen above the keyboard. She could feel them watching her—the other interns, junior execs, secretaries. She wasn’t imagining it anymore.
She’d been noticed. And not in a good way.
“Must be nice to have powerful friends,” one intern—Monica, razor-sharp and cruel—whispered just loud enough as she passed. “Hope it was worth the charity pick.”
Elena didn’t flinch. She was used to silent judgment. But this was different. It wasn’t just about her anymore—it was about him.
Damian Vale hadn’t looked her way all morning.
He was sealed behind his office door on the top floor, unreachable, untouchable. Just like he had always been. Just like he was supposed to be.
Last night meant nothing, she told herself. He was being kind. Grateful. Curious.
She repeated it like a prayer—until her phone vibrated.
> Unknown Number:
You’re not invisible anymore, Elena. Learn how to survive it.
Her fingers tightened around the phone. She knew exactly who it was from. And that terrified her more than the words themselves.
---
At noon, her team was summoned for a progress review in the East Conference Room. Elena kept her head down, taking notes, triple-checking her talking points.
The glass doors swung open mid-presentation—and every head snapped up.
Damian entered, sharp in charcoal grey. His presence shifted the oxygen in the room. Elena felt her pulse thrum wildly as he scanned the table—and, for a fraction of a second, locked eyes with her.
No nod. No greeting.
Just a flicker.
And then business as usual.
“Continue,” he said smoothly, taking a seat at the head of the table.
Elena forced herself to breathe.
Halfway through the meeting, Monica pulled out a glossy file from her bag—something no one had seen before.
“I did some personal digging on the real estate subsidiary,” Monica said sweetly. “There’s... an interesting discrepancy.”
She flipped it open.
Elena’s heart stopped.
The document wasn’t about real estate.
It was about her. A background summary. Her mother’s employment history. Her school scholarships. A photo of the small house they lived in on the outskirts of town.
It was a smear attempt.
“Ms. Moreau,” Monica said with mock innocence, “Care to explain how someone with no financial background and a servant lineage ended up in our elite internship program?”
The room went still.
Damian’s eyes flashed like lightning behind a storm.
“Enough,” he said coldly.
Monica blinked. “Sir, I was just—”
“I said enough.”
The temperature dropped. Damian stood slowly, his voice like a blade.
“I don’t care if Ms. Moreau grew up in a shoebox and studied by candlelight. If she was chosen, it was for her merit. And if I hear another whisper about her background in my boardrooms, you’ll find yourself in one of our competitor’s mailrooms. Understood?”
No one breathed.
Monica’s lips trembled. “Yes, Mr. Vale.”
He turned without another word and left the room.
Elena stared at the table, hands clenched in her lap.
He had defended her. In front of everyone.
But that meant the rumors would spread faster now.
It meant the spotlight would grow hotter.
And it meant something far more dangerous—people would start asking why.
---
After the meeting, she rushed to the rooftop terrace—her favorite quiet spot. The city air was brisk, biting at her skin, but she didn’t care.
She needed to breathe.
He found her ten minutes later.
“You okay?” Damian asked, his voice lower now. Softer.
Elena didn’t turn. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You wanted me to sit there and say nothing?”
“I wanted to disappear,” she said, voice tight. “And now you’ve made that impossible.”
He was quiet a moment. Then, “Good.”
She finally turned to face him.
“I don’t understand you,” she said. “One second you’re cold. The next, you’re... this. Why?”
Damian stepped closer. Close enough that she could see the shadows under his perfect control. The war behind his eyes.
“Because I don’t know how to stop,” he murmured.
“Stop what?”
“Looking at you like you matter.”
Her breath hit
ched.
“I shouldn’t,” he added. “But I do.”
And then he walked away—leaving her heart spinning and the city howling below.
- Writer
