The Dam
843 Words
"No..."
The word barely left my lips.
It came out as a whisper.
A prayer.
A denial.
"There has to be a mistake."
On the other end of the phone, Maya was crying.
"I wish there was."
My fingers tightened around the phone until they hurt.
"What hospital?"
"St. Augustine's."
"I'm coming."
I didn't wait for another word.
The call ended.
For a second, I simply stood there in the middle of my living room.
The television still played softly.
The bowl of popcorn lay overturned on the floor.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Yet somehow...
Nothing was.
...
I don't remember changing.
I don't remember grabbing my car keys.
I don't remember locking my apartment.
One moment I was standing in my penthouse.
The next, I was weaving through the quiet city streets, praying every traffic light would turn green.
Please...
Please be okay.
Please.
Richard couldn't die.
He just couldn't.
He still had campaigns to approve.
Designers to argue with.
Terrible jokes to make.
He'd promised we'd have lunch next week.
People who made promises like that weren't supposed to disappear overnight.
...
The emergency department was brighter than I remembered.
Too bright.
Hospitals always smelled the same.
Disinfectant.
Coffee.
Fear.
The automatic doors slid open.
I spotted Maya immediately.
She was sitting in the waiting area, mascara streaked down her cheeks, still wearing the navy gown she'd worn to the gala.
The moment she saw me, she stood.
I didn't ask.
I already knew.
She wrapped her arms around me.
"I'm so sorry..."
No.
No.
No.
I pulled away.
"Where is he?"
Maya looked down.
She couldn't answer.
That terrified me more than anything.
A doctor approached us.
He looked exhausted.
His expression told me everything before he spoke.
"Miss Voss?"
"Yes."
"I'm Dr. Ellis."
He hesitated.
"We did everything we could."
The world...
Stopped. I dreaded ever hearing that statement.
"...I'm sorry."
"He suffered a massive heart attack."
"I..."
My mouth moved.
No sound came out.
"We weren't able to save him."
Silence.
Utter silence.
Not outside.
Inside me.
My knees gave out.
If Maya hadn't caught me, I would've hit the floor.
Richard Knight...
Was gone.
...
I cried harder than I had in years.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
Ugly tears.
Broken breaths.
The kind of grief that stole the air from your lungs.
People stared.
I didn't care.
The man who had believed in me before anyone else...
The man who had changed my life...
The man who was as a father figure to me...
Was dead.
...
Nearly an hour later, I found myself sitting alone in the hospital chapel.
The room was empty.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
A single candle flickered near the altar.
I stared at it for what felt like forever.
"I kept my promise."
My voice cracked.
"I never let this place define my worth."
Fresh tears rolled down my face.
"You were supposed to be here longer."
The silence answered me.
...
By dawn, the news had already spread.
FASHION INDUSTRY ICON RICHARD KNIGHT PASSES AWAY AT 67.
Television stations interrupted regular programming.
Fashion magazines posted tributes.
Designers around the world shared photographs with him.
Every headline felt unreal.
Like they were talking about someone else.
Not Richard.
Not the man who remembered every employee's birthday.
Not the man who insisted assistants deserved respect.
Not the man who called me his superstar.
...
The agency closed for three days.
Every campaign.
Every fitting.
Every meeting.
Cancelled.
Flowers arrived by the hundreds.
Letters from brands across Europe.
Calls from celebrities.
Condolences from competitors.
The lobby of Voss Management became a sea of white lilies.
I stood there alone long after everyone else had left.
My fingertips brushed the edge of his framed portrait.
"I hope I made you proud."
A tear slipped down my cheek.
"I really tried."
Behind me...
The elevator doors opened.
Footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
Slow.
Measured.
Confident.
Not a single step rushed.
I assumed it was another employee.
Until every conversation in the lobby stopped.
Someone whispered,
"He's here..."
Another voice followed.
"The new CEO."
My heartbeat slowed.
I turned.
A man stepped out of the elevator dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair.
Cold grey eyes that revealed absolutely nothing.
He was insanely beautiful but I didn't have the train of thought to think anymore
His jaw was set with quiet control, his expression unreadable despite the grief surrounding him.
He didn't look around the room.
He didn't acknowledge the whispers.
He walked straight toward his father's portrait.
Stopped.
And after several long seconds...
He placed a single white rose beneath the frame.
Then he spoke.
His voice was calm.
Low.
Controlled.
"Tomorrow morning."
He finally lifted his eyes.
They met mine for the very first time.
"The company moves forward."
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Then he turned and walked away.
I stared after him, my grief momentarily eclipsed by disbelief.
Who was this man?
And why did it feel as though he'd just declared war on everything his father had built?
- Writer
