Chapter 4

The cardboard box felt heavier than it should as I carried it toward my office. Christopher had reinstated my position, but I still needed to properly settle back in. Each step down the hallway felt like walking through quicksand, the weight of stares and whispers pressing against me from all sides.

"Look who's back," someone murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Wonder what she did to convince the older Garcia brother," another voice replied with unmistakable insinuation.

I kept my chin up, refusing to acknowledge them. The box in my arms contained the few personal items I'd managed to salvage from my previous hasty departure—framed certificates, a small potted succulent, the crystal paperweight my team had given me after our successful campaign last year. Remnants of a life I was desperately trying to reclaim.

As I rounded the corner toward my office, I nearly collided with Chloe. She stood in the middle of the hallway, as if waiting for me, her crimson lips curved into a predatory smile.

"Victoria," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "What a... surprise to see you back."

"Excuse me," I said quietly, attempting to sidestep her.

Chloe moved into my path, her eyes gleaming with malice. "You know, most people would have the dignity to stay away after being so publicly... discarded."

The word sliced through me, but I refused to show it. "I'm just here to do my job, Chloe."

"Your job?" She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Or Christopher Garcia?"

Before I could respond, she stepped forward, her shoulder deliberately colliding with my box. The impact sent it flying from my grasp, its contents scattering across the polished floor of the hallway. My certificates clattered against the tiles, the succulent pot cracked, spilling soil in a dark trail, and the crystal paperweight skidded under a nearby desk.

"Oops," Chloe said, not bothering to hide her satisfaction. "How clumsy of you."

The commotion drew attention. Office doors opened, heads peered over cubicle walls, and within moments, a small crowd had gathered. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I knelt down to gather my belongings.

"Well?" Chloe's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "Aren't you going to clean up your mess, Victoria?"

I reached for my scattered items, trying to ignore the audience that had formed around us. My fingers trembled as I collected the shards of the broken pot, soil staining my skin.

"That's right," Chloe continued, her voice pitched to carry. "On your knees. Where you belong."

Someone snickered. Another person whispered something I couldn't quite hear, but the tone made my skin crawl. I kept my eyes down, focusing on gathering my things, willing myself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

"What's going on here?"

William's voice cut through the murmurs. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway of his office, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene—me on my knees, surrounded by my scattered possessions, Chloe standing triumphantly above me.

For one foolish moment, I thought he might help me. Defend me. Show some shred of the man I thought I'd known.

Instead, he simply watched, his eyes cold and distant, as if observing a mildly interesting experiment. No recognition of our shared past, no flicker of guilt or compassion. Just... nothing.

"Just helping Victoria settle back in," Chloe said, moving to stand beside him, her hand possessively sliding into the crook of his arm.

William's gaze remained on me, and I saw something shift in his expression—not sympathy, but something harder. Resentment, perhaps. As if my presence was an inconvenience, a reminder of his own failings that he'd rather not face.

"I see," he said finally, making no move to intervene.

The silence that followed was suffocating. I continued gathering my things, hyperaware of every eye on me, every suppressed laugh, every judgment being passed. My fingers closed around the frame of my marketing award—the glass was cracked now, a jagged line splitting the certificate inside.

Like my life. Before and after.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The voice—deep, commanding, and furious—cut through the hallway like a thunderclap. The crowd parted instantly as Christopher strode forward, his tall frame radiating barely contained anger.

He took in the scene with one sweeping glance—the scattered items, my kneeling position, Chloe's smug expression, William's passive stance—and his jaw tightened visibly.

"Ms. Nguyen," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "Would you care to explain why a valued employee of this company is on her knees while you stand by watching?"

Chloe's confidence faltered. "It was an accident. Victoria dropped her things, and I was just—"

"Lying," Christopher finished for her, his tone cutting. "A habit you seem to have perfected."

He turned to address the gathered employees. "Don't you all have work to do?" The crowd dispersed immediately, scurrying back to their desks like scolded children.

Christopher then rounded on his brother. "And you. Standing there while this happens in your department?"

William straightened, a flash of defiance crossing his features. "This is between Victoria and Chloe. I don't see why—"

"Both of you, out," Christopher interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now. You're done here for today."

"You can't just—" Chloe began, indignation coloring her cheeks.

"I can, and I am," Christopher said. "Or would you prefer I make your departure from this company permanent?"

Chloe's mouth snapped shut. She tugged at William's arm, her eyes flashing with anger and humiliation.

As they turned to leave, I found myself speaking, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

"Wait," I said, still kneeling among my scattered belongings. "That's not necessary."

All three of them looked at me with varying degrees of surprise.

"William doesn't deserve to be humiliated like this," I continued quietly, my eyes meeting his. "Not publicly. Not... like I was."

Something flickered in William's expression—confusion, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of shame. For a moment, I glimpsed the man I thought I'd known, buried beneath layers of pride and weakness.

Christopher's eyes narrowed, his gaze moving between William and me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. I couldn't read his expression, but there was something in it that unsettled me—a calculation, an assessment.

"Very gracious of you, Ms. Lewis," he said finally, his voice carefully controlled. "But my decision stands."

As William and Chloe retreated down the hallway, Christopher knelt beside me, his expensive suit touching the floor without hesitation. He began gathering my scattered items, his movements precise and efficient.

"You didn't have to do that," I said softly, watching his hands collect the broken pieces of my former life.

"Neither did you," he replied, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Defend him, I mean."

I looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I didn't do it for him."

"No?" Christopher's voice held a note of curiosity. "Then why?"

I didn't have an answer—at least, not one I was ready to acknowledge. Not even to myself.

As we finished gathering my belongings, Christopher's hand brushed against mine, the brief contact sending an unexpected jolt through my body. I pulled back instinctively, and saw something flash in his eyes—something that looked almost like satisfaction.

"Come to my office when you're settled," he said, rising to his feet and straightening his suit jacket. "We have matters to discuss."

As he walked away, I couldn't help but wonder what game Christopher Garcia was playing—and why, despite everything, I felt myself being drawn into it.