Chapter 5
1616 Words
Maya kept her head down.
She hadn’t said a word since the coffee disaster, and no one had said a word to her. Not Ms. Carter. Not the receptionist. Not even the guy from accounting who usually offered a half-smile on Tuesdays.
She sat at her desk, mindlessly typing out the corrections for the P&L reports like her fingers belonged to someone else. Her skin still burned from humiliation, her cheeks stained with the memory of Lucas’s voice—sharp, harsh, relentless.
"Do you even think before moving?"
The words haunted her.
And yet… there was something else. Not just anger in his voice. Not just fury.
Something she couldn’t quite place.
A hesitation.
A flicker in his eyes before he turned away.
She couldn’t explain it, but she felt it. Like an invisible ripple had passed between them. Not warmth — no, Lucas Stravon didn’t do warmth — but something.
Noticed. That’s the word.
For a second, she felt noticed.
And then destroyed.
Lucas stared at the white shirt spread across his desk like a casualty of war. The coffee stain had dried to an ugly shape across the collar. He should’ve thrown it away. Or had it sent to dry cleaning. But instead, he just kept staring at it like it had the answers to questions he didn’t know he was asking.
Maya Cole.
He said her name in his head the way someone might say a trigger word.
She was reckless. Disorganized. Loud when she thought no one was watching.
But there was something about her.
Not charm — no, he hated charm.
But rawness.
Like she wasn’t pretending to be anything other than what she was. Imperfect. Panicked. Sincere.
A liability.
He should’ve fired her on the spot.
So why hadn’t he?
Hours later. The elevator dinged. Heads turned.
She stepped out like a storm held in silk.
Tall. Elegant. With dark burgundy hair that curled at the ends like it had secrets. A navy-blue suit hugged her like it had been custom-built by angels, and a pair of Red bottoms clicked like they owned the floor.
Sophia Hale. Lucas’s ex. And former COO of Stravons Empire.
Maya didn’t know her name not yet, but she felt it. The change in the air. The way people stiffened. The way Ms. Carter stood taller.
The woman walked past Maya without a glance and went straight into Lucas’s office.
No knock. No hesitation. Just authority. Lucas didn’t look surprised to see her.
He barely glanced up. “Sophia.”
“Lucas.”
He motioned to the chair across from him, but she didn’t sit.
“I heard you hired chaos.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s unclear. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“The girl who ran into you this morning.”
His jaw flinched. “News travels fast.”
“Stains travel faster.”
He said nothing.
Sophia finally sat, crossing one long leg over the other.
“I’m here because the board reached out.”
“Did they now?”
“They’re concerned about direction. Expansion. Legacy.”
Lucas folded his hands. “And you think you’re the answer.”
She smiled. “I was always the answer. You were just too proud to admit it.”
“Or too smart.”
She laughed — soft, sharp, dangerous.
“You’ve gotten colder,” she said. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
He leaned back in his chair. “And you’ve gotten bolder.”
“I want to be back in,” she said simply. “Not as a consultant. Not as a side project. I want the role I was born for.”
“And what role is that?”
She held his gaze. “CEO.”
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t blink.
But something in his posture shifted.
“I built this company,” he said.
“With me,” she replied. “Until you pushed me out.”
“You left.”
“Because you gave me no choice.”
A beat of silence.
“I’m not here to fight you, Lucas,” she said more softly. “I’m here to correct a mistake.”
His expression didn’t change. “Whose?”
She smiled again. “We’ll see.”
Maya watched through the glass.
She didn’t mean to stare, but the woman commanded attention without saying a word.
It wasn’t jealousy. Maya had long accepted that she wasn’t the kind of woman who turned heads or shut down rooms.
But there was something else.
A tension. A history thick enough to cut with a knife.
The woman ,whoever she was — turned slightly in her seat. And for one chilling second, their eyes met through the glass.
Maya looked away immediately.
But it was too late.
12:30 p.m.
The office buzzed with quiet whispers.
“Did you see her?”
“She’s back?”
“She looks like money and murder.”
Maya ate her sandwich alone at her desk, ears ringing from everything unspoken.
Then her phone lit up with a private number. She picked up.
No one spoke on the other end.
Just the sound of breathing. And then—click. She stared at the screen. Weird.
----
Sophia Hale walked through the 8th floor like she never left.
She paused by a group of assistants, scanning each one without urgency. And then she saw her.
“Maya, is it?” she asked smoothly.
Maya froze mid-step. “Yes.”
Sophia smiled — the kind that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I saw you this morning. Quite the entrance.”
Maya swallowed. “I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, I’m not judging,” she said. “Lucas always did things like... unpredictable.”
She tilted her head.
“You’ve made quite an impression.”
Maya didn’t know how to respond to that, so she said nothing.
Sophia leaned in slightly. “Just… be careful. This place doesn’t forgive softness.”
Maya blinked.
And then Sophia walked away like nothing happened.
Lucas stood by the window, staring out at the skyline like it owed him answers. Sophia was back.
And she didn’t just want a seat at the table. She wanted the table.
He could feel it in her eyes. The way she studied Maya earlier — not like a threat, but like a piece on a board.
He didn’t like games. Especially not ones where people like Maya could get hurt.
But he couldn’t protect her either. That wasn’t his job.
He pressed a button on the intercom.
“Ms. Carter, schedule a private audit of all departmental spending for Q2. Full access.”
“Yes, sir.”
And then he added, “Keep it quiet.”
Maya finally stepped out of the building, air hitting her lungs like freedom. Her phone buzzed again.
Private number. She didn’t pick up.
This time, the voicemail came instantly.
> Careful. Some people don’t survive second mistakes.
“Mistakes cost more than jobs, Maya. They cost silence. Be careful where you walk.”
She stood on the sidewalk, frozen.
And for the first time since she started at Stravons Empire, she wasn’t just worried about keeping her job.
She was worried about surviving it.
The moment Maya got back to the apartment, she locked the door, dropped her bag, and leaned against it like she had just escaped a nightmare.
Leah popped her head out from the kitchen. “Hey. You okay?”
“No,” Maya whispered.
“What happened now?”
Maya moved to the couch, still shaking. “Someone called me. From a private number. Didn’t say anything. Then they texted me.”
She showed Leah the deleted message she had screenshotted before erasing.
Leah’s face hardened. “What the hell?”
“I feel like I’m being watched. Like someone is targeting me and I don’t even know who.”
Maya’s voice broke on the last word.
Leah sat beside her. “Tell me everything.”
So she did. The coffee incident. The woman. The meeting. The text. The stare.
“She looked at me like she could read my expiration date,” Maya whispered.
Leah stood. “Okay. First of all, breathe. Second of all — whoever she is, she’s not God.”
“I just feel like I don’t belong there.”
“You do belong there. You work your butt off. You’re smart. You’re resilient. And she’s just… threatened.”
“She doesn’t even know me.”
“She doesn’t have to. People like that? They smell potential. And you, my dear, you are full of it.”
Maya cracked a smile. “That sounded like a compliment... buried under a pile of strange wording.”
“You’re welcome,” Leah said, grinning.
They fell into a quiet stretch of reassurance, the kind only best friends can give.
---
Saturday Morning.
The apartment smelled like cleaning spray and scrambled eggs.
Leah vacuumed in bunny slippers while Maya wiped down the window ledge.
Outside, the city moved as if nothing strange had ever happened.
“You know,” Leah shouted over the vacuum, “we could totally have a weekend off without drama. Just once.”
“I’d settle for a nap,” Maya muttered, tossing a rag in the laundry bin.
A knock came at the door.
Maya paused.
Leah turned off the vacuum. “That’s prob
ably Mr. Johnson. I forgot to send rent.”
Maya nodded and went to the door, brushing crumbs off her sweatshirt. She opened it. And froze.
Standing there was Sophia Hale. In designer sunglasses. Immaculate. Icy. And smiling.
“Hi, Maya,” she said sweetly. “We need to talk.”
- Writer
