CHAPTER 3:THE BOARDROOM
1237 Words
Lisa woke up to silence.
Not the soft silence of her old apartment. This was heavy. Expensive silence. The kind that cost money to maintain.
She sat up slowly. The sheets were like water. The room smelled like nothing.
6am.
She’d counted.
There was a soft knock. Then a woman’s voice. “Ms. Andrews? I’m here to help you dress.”
Lisa gripped her cane. “Okay.”
The woman — she said her name was Mara — moved efficiently. Ivory dress again. This one with long sleeves. Low heels. Hair pinned back. No jewelry. _“Mr. Voss’s preference,”_ Mara said.
Lisa didn’t argue.
Downstairs, Damien was already waiting. She could hear him. The sound of him typing. Fast. Angry.
“Good morning,” Lisa said quietly.
He didn’t look up. “Eat.”
There was coffee. Black. And toast she couldn’t see. She ate anyway.
The car ride was worse than the silence. Leather seats. Cold air. And Damien on his phone the whole time.
“You’ll sit beside me,” he said finally. “You won’t speak. You won’t move. You’ll just be there.”
“Okay,” Lisa whispered.
Voss Enterprises was loud. Not in sound. In people. Voices bouncing off glass. Heels clicking.
Lisa kept her hand on Damien’s sleeve. She hated it. Needing help. But she hated getting lost more.
The boardroom doors opened and the noise died.
27 people. Lisa counted the breathing.
“Sit,” Damien said, pulling out a chair for her.
She sat. The chair was too big. Her feet didn’t quite touch the floor.
Damien started talking. Numbers. Acquisitions. Words Lisa didn’t understand.
She tried to focus. Tried to be furniture like he asked.
Then a man’s voice cut in. Smooth. Mean.
“Damien. Did you bring your secretary? Because I don’t think she’s cleared for this.”
Laughter. Low.
Lisa’s face burned.
Damien’s voice was ice. “This is my wife, Richard.”
The room went dead quiet.
“Wife?” Richard laughed. “Since when? Since you decided to pity a blind girl?”
Lisa’s hands gripped her knees. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Watch yourself,” Damien said.
“Or what? She’s going to sue us?” Richard leaned forward. Lisa could hear it. “Come on. We all know what this is. A PR stunt. Or maybe you just got bored of escorts.”
Lisa couldn’t breathe.
She felt Damien stand. His chair scraped back.
“Richard,” Damien said, voice dangerously quiet. “You have two options. Apologize to my wife. Or get out of my building.”
“I—”
“Now.”
A pause. Then, through gritted teeth: “Sorry, Ms. Andrews.”
“It wasn’t to me you were rude,” Damien said.
Another pause. “Sorry.”
“Good.” Damien sat back down. “Now. As I was saying. The merger.”
The meeting continued. But Lisa couldn’t hear it. All she could hear was her heart.
And the word. _Wife._
He’d called her wife. In front of them. And defended her.
When it was over, Damien stood. “Come.”
Back in the car, neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Lisa asked, “Why did you do that?”
“Do what.”
“Defend me. You could’ve let him talk.”
Damien was quiet. Then: “Because he was wrong.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Lisa nodded, even though he couldn’t see. She believed him. And that scared her.
---
That night, there was another knock.
But it wasn’t Mara.
“Lis? Baby, open up.”
Annabelle.
Lisa’s stomach dropped. “How did you get up here?”
“The money worked, remember?” Annabelle laughed, but it was sharp. “Can I come in?”
Lisa opened the door.
Annabelle smelled like Mom’s perfume and desperation.
“Oh my god,” Annabelle breathed. “This place. Lis, it’s huge.”
Lisa closed the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you!” Annabelle grabbed her hands. “And to talk about the next payment. Mom said the 500k cleared but the landlord still wants last month’s late fees—”
“Annabelle.”
“What?”
“You sold me.”
Silence.
Then Annabelle pulled back. “I saved us. You should be grateful.”
“I am,” Lisa said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
Annabelle sighed, like Lisa was being dramatic. “Look. Just do your job, okay? Be nice. Be quiet. In a year you’ll have 2 million and you can do whatever you want. Maybe even get that surgery.”
Lisa flinched. People always brought up the surgery. Like her blindness was a problem to fix.
“I don’t want the surgery,” Lisa said.
“Well I do,” Annabelle snapped. Then softened. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed. Mom’s been crying.”
Mom. Always Mom.
“Is she okay?” Lisa asked.
“She’s fine. She just misses me.” The words landed like a knife.
Annabelle left 10 minutes later with a promise to “text often.”
Lisa locked the door and slid down to the floor.
She wasn’t sure when the tears started.
---
Footsteps.
Lisa jerked up. Wiped her face.
The door opened.
Damien.
He didn’t turn on the light. He just stood there.
“You were crying,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
Lisa hugged her knees. “Please don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Damien didn’t leave. He walked in. Closed the door.
She heard him sit. On the floor. Across from her. Not touching.
“I don’t like crying,” he said.
“Then go.”
“I’m not going.”
More silence.
Then, so quiet she almost missed it: “My sister used to cry like that. Before.”
Lisa frowned. “You have a sister?”
“Had,” he corrected. “She died. Car accident. I was driving.”
The air left Lisa’s lungs.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be.” His voice was rough. “I don’t tell people that.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because you’re crying and it’s annoying me.”
Lisa almost laughed. Almost.
Instead she said, “I’m not crying because I’m weak. I’m crying because my mom didn’t even ask how I was. Just if the money came through.”
Damien was quiet for a long time.
Then: “My mother did the same thing. After the accident. Asked about the car, not me.”
Lisa turned her head toward his voice. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah.”
They sat there. In the dark. Two people who’d been chosen last.
Finally, Damien stood. “Dinner is in 20. Wear the blue dress.”
“Okay.”
He paused at the door. “Lisa.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let her come back without telling me.”
Lisa nodded. “Okay.”
The door closed.
Lisa pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart was beating too fast.
For the first time in her life, someone had chosen to sit with her in the dark.
Not because she was blind.
Not because she was useful.
Just because.
And that was terrifying.
- Writer
