Chapter 5
I straightened up, and took a deep breath of cold air that reeked of disinfectant.
I called the hospital's care staff to schedule the transfer.
Then I opened an app and ordered a moving van.
Once everything was arranged, I turned around and headed to the nurse's station to sign the forms.
My heels tapped crisply on the terrazzo floor. With every step, I crushed the past beneath my heels.
Mom's surgery went smoothly.
I checked back in from my leave and returned to that climate-controlled yet emotionally cold office tower.
Life had to go on.
As soon as I stepped into the lobby, I found myself stuck in the morning rush, jammed at the elevator.
Only one elevator was working. The other was out of order.
I was squeezed to the edge, hugging a pile of files half her height.
People kept stepping on my heels. I gritted my teeth and put up with it.
The edge of my stack of files got caught in the elevator doors. I yanked them free, sweat breaking out across my forehead.
I finally squeezed into the elevator, barely holding it together.
Before I could even catch her breath, the department director showed up right on the dot.
He tossed a thick stack of files onto her desk, sending a small cloud of dust into the air.
He said, "Eunice, these are the leftover cases. Since you're just back, they're perfect to help you settle in."
His tone was casual, almost dismissive. His arrogance made it clear there was no room for debate.
I looked at the stack, clearly a headache waiting for me.
My fingers tensed up. But in the end, I took them. "Yes, Director."
The break room was filled with hushed whispers. The hot topic was the new general manager, Samuel Rathbone.
"I heard he's got insane connections, an outsider parachuted right into the top," someone said.
"His methods are brutal. Just fired two middle managers who were coasting on their seniority the day before yesterday," another chimed in.
"He's easy on the eyes, but he's a cold-faced devil," someone else added.
I was listening and made myself a cup of instant coffee.
Someone like Samuel was completely out of reach for me.
All I wanted was to deal with the mess on my desk and get back to the hospital to stay with my mom.
Before I knew it, it was already late at night. Only my desk lamp was still burning on the whole floor.
My stomach felt so empty it made her restless, so I went for the cheapest takeout on the menu.
While waiting for my food, I sank into my chair.
Almost automatically, I pulled out my phone and took a quick pic of the deserted office.
It was a muscle memory I'd developed over five years.
No matter how late it got, I'd always send that photo to Joseph.
Just to tell him I'd finished work and grabbed a bite. It felt like a humble little digital check-in.
I tapped the chat I always kept pinned at the top, selected the photo, and hit send.
The instant my finger left the screen, my gaze sharpened.
My mind buzzed for a moment. It wasn't Joseph.
It was just a plain, impersonal gray avatar. Saved under the note, 'Mr. Rathbone'.
I'd added him earlier that afternoon when the director made the group chat.
I scrambled to hit 'unsend'. My finger hovered over the screen, but I froze.
It was too late. Shit.
All those stories about Samuel being cold and heartless rushed through my head.
Subordinates sent inexplicable photos to their superiors late at night.
Was I trying to get his attention? Or was I hoping he'd notice how hard I was working?
Either way, that was so stupid it hurt.
If it had been Joseph, what would he have said?
He'd probably just frown and text back, [You're eating junk food again.]
Or maybe he'd just read it and never reply, letting the message sink without a trace.
I stared at the screen, nerves stretched tight as I waited for something to happen.
My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to leap right out of my throat.
Just as I was about to shut off my phone and play dead, hoping to escape the embarrassment, a notification appeared at the top of the chat window.
Seeing this, I stopped breathing.
A new message flashed on the screen the next second. Samuel: [You've worked hard. Head home early.]
No sarcasm. No interrogation. It was flat, just stating a fact.
I just sat there, stunned. I stared at those words, my mind blank. I had no idea what to reply.
*****
The next morning, I was in the break room making myself a cup of coffee.
An icy male voice sounded from behind her. "You worked late last night?" Samuel asked.
I jumped, startled. I turned around and met Samuel's gaze.
He was in a perfectly tailored suit, wearing silver-rimmed glasses.
Behind those lenses, his gaze was calm and unfathomable.