~ Everlyn’s POV ~
I stood by the car for a full minute before I actually got in.
My driver didn’t say a word, but I could feel his confusion.
Usually, I’m in the seat and already working on my tablet before he even closes the door.
But this morning, I kept looking back at the front door of the mansion.
I knew Clara was still upstairs, probably just waking up, and the idea of putting fifteen miles of highway between us felt…
wrong.
By the time I reached the office, my mood was already out.
I walked through the lobby, and for the first time in years, the company felt like a less interesting place to be at.
I realized just then that the only reason I’d enjoyed coming to work this last few months was because I knew I’d see Clara sitting right outside my door.
I ran through the usual morning ritual.
Lydia delivered the day’s agenda, concise and efficient.
Francis briefed me on market fluctuations.
Mrs.
Davies brought my black coffee, exactly two sugars, no cream.
Every piece was in place.
Everything was precisely where it should be.
Except for the one detail that wasn’t.
My gaze drifted from the complicated projections on my screen, past the glass wall of my office, and landed on the empty desk outside.
Clara’s desk.
It was perfectly clean.
Organized.
The usual clutter of her sketches, the half-finished tea cup, the gentle rustle of her turning a page, all of it was gone.
An unfamiliar pang of… annoyance?
Frustration?
tightened in my chest.
This is ridiculous.
I muttered into the silent room.
‘Clara Sinclair was just an employee, an assistant currently on a week-long sick leave.
Her absence should be a non-issue.
Yet, the rhythm of the office, usually so seamless, now felt monotonous.’
It was boring.
That was the truth I didn’t want to admit.
Without her there to annoy me, or surprise me, or look at me with those wide, guarded eyes, my job was just a series of meetings.
And very time I left my office, for a meeting my eyes would automatically veer toward her empty work desk.
It felt like a compulsion and I hated it.
I found myself snapping at Lydia when she asked a simple question about the afternoon’s itinerary, my patience thinner than usual.
She looked surprised, and I immediately regretted it.
This agitating was unlike me.
Admittedly this past week, the thought of coming into the office each morning had become… irritating.
The only thing I found myself looking forward to was the end of the day.
The drive back to the mansion and the moment I could walk through the door and know she was there.
‘Make no mistake, it wasn’t because I needed her.
It was simply because I preferred my affairs to be in order.
And a healthy Clara Sinclair, present and accounted for, was part of that order.’
Or so I told myself on the way back home
As the day went by, my thoughts kept dragging me back to the mansion.
To Clara’s pale face, and that flimsy, almost laughable lie about a “wrong number.” Though strangely I was fascinated at her attempt at composure while lying to me.
But now, in the quiet of my office, the memory gnawed at me.
I am a woman who has delt with different kind of people…..politicians, Company owners, patriarchs of old money, and even the poorest kinds in the society.
I can smell a lie from a mile away.
And Clara, bless her naive heart, had been a terrible liar.
A part of me, was furious that she had hidden something from me.
But then there was the other part.
That part wanted to protect her, to shield her from whatever, or whoever had put that haunted look in her eyes.
I pushed back from my desk, the leather of my chair groaning softly.
I needed answers.
Not from Clara, not yet.
I wouldn’t push her into admitting anything.
That wouldn’t work.
Francis would.
I dialed his number.
“Francis. My office. Now.”
He appeared moments later, impeccably dressed as always.
“Miss Evelyn?”
“Francis,” I began, my voice even, devoid of the irritation simmering beneath the surface.
“Earlier yesterdsy morning, Clara received a call on her personal phone. The number was unknown.” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air.
“I want that number traced. I want the caller’s identity, their location, and a full report of their recent communications”
“Understood, Miss Evelyn. By when do you need this?”
“Before I leave for the day,” I replied, my eyes fixed on his.
“And ensure no one, especially Clara, is aware of this investigation.”
He gave a curt nod and left.
The rest of the afternoon passed by rather quickly, but the my thoughts was elsewhere.
I knew, with a certainty that chilled me, exactly who might have called Clara.
Francis returned just as the last of the junior executive were already trickling out of the company.
He stood before my desk, a thin file in his hand.
“The number belongs to a burner phone, Miss Vance,” he stated, his voice flat.
“It was activated two days ago, used only for the call to Miss Sinclair, and has since been deactivated. However, we traced the activation point. It was registered to an anonymous VPN in the city’s old financial district.” He paused.
“The physical location from which the call was made was at a private residence that belongs to Julian Sterling’s.”
A pure rage bloomed in my chest.
But no surprise really that its Julian as suspected.
That pathetic, indebted parasite.
He dared to contact her.
It was nearly one in the morning, i hadn’t gone home the night before as I decided to move up my plans of destroy the Sterling’s company from the inside.
“Miller is still holding out,” Francis said, leaning against the edge of my desk.
He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp.
“He owns ten percent of the Sterling parent company. He says he wants double the market value.”
“Double? He’s delusional. With the way their stock is valued in the market, he should be happy if he gets anything close to one tenth of the market value” I picked up my phone and dialed a number I’d kept in my private files for years.
“What are you doing?” Francis asked.
“Calling in a debt.”
The phone rang three times before a groggy, terrified voice answered.
“Evelyn? It’s the middle of the night.”
“I know what time it is, Miller,” I said, my voice flat.
I stood up and walked to the window, watching my own reflection in the glass.
“I also know about the offshore accounts you’ve been using to launder money and hide your mistress’s lifestyle from your wife. If those documents hit the SEC by morning, you won’t just be poor; you’ll be in a cell and divorced”
There was a dead silence on the other end.
I could hear his ragged breathing.
“Sign the transfer,” I continued.
“I’ll pay the market rate. Not a cent more. You have from now till six in the morning before I send the first email of your escapades to your wife.”
I hung up without waiting for a reply.
Francis gave a low whistle.
“A bit harsh, don’t you think?”
“Harsh is what Julian did to Clara,” I snapped, turning to face him.
The rage was right there, bubbling just under my skin.
“I’m not playing a game, Francis. I want the Sterling’s reputation six feet under. By the time I’m done, Julian and his greedy father won’t be able to buy a cup of coffee without asking for my permission.”
“And the other stakeholders?”
“Blackmail the ones you can, buy the ones you can’t,” I said, sitting back down.
“I want the final signatures of the transferred shares by the time Clara walks into this office on Monday.”
Monday finally morning came, the day Clara returned to work, and I couldn’t be more happier returning to the office.
Of course Clara or anyone else couldn’t tell from my expression.
I watched her through the glass for the first ten minutes.
She looked healthy, the color had returned to her cheeks but she seemed different.
She was jumpy.
Every time a door opened or a phone rang on the floor, she flinched, and also kept her head down, staring at her phone.
I couldn’t stand it anymore so I pressed the intercom.
“Clara. My office.”
She walked in a moment later, “Yes, Miss Evelyn?”
“Sit”
I waited until she was settled before I spoke again.
I tried to keep my voice professional, but I could feel it softening.
“How are you feeling? Really.”
“I’m fine,” she answered quickly, too quickly.
“Just getting back into the rhythm.”
“Hmmmm” I narrowed my eyes at her, fully aware that she was lying.
I reached into my drawer and pulled out the new mobile phone the company produced, setting it on the table between us.
“Give me your old phone, Clara.”
She hesitated, her eyes darting to her pocket.
“Why? I… I have all my photos on there. All my sketches.”
“I’ll have the tech team port everything over to this one,” I said, reaching out my hand.
“That phone is already old and besides this one is a new design from the company, I need to hear your review on it before it hits the market”
She bit her lip, looking at the old phone like it was a lifeline.
For a second, I thought she was going to refuse.
But then she sighed and placed it in my palm.
“Thank you,” she whispered and took the new one.
“Good girl” I said, my thumb brushing her knuckles as I took the phone.
I meant it to be reassuring, but it felt like more.
For a heartbeat, we just stayed like that—the two of us in the middle of this massive office, the world outside forgotten.
She pulled away first, clearing her throat.
“Actually, Miss Evelyn… I wanted to ask… The design team is celebrating tonight. We won the hotel chain project, so they’re going out for drinks and dinner to celebrate. I was hoping to go with them and won’t be needing a ride home.”
I squinted my eyes at her.
Clara wasn’t the type to go out for drinks, especially not after being sick for a week.
“The whole team?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding frantically.
“Just a quick celebration. I thought it would be good to… you know, be around people.”
I felt a prickle of unease at the back of my neck.
Something was off.
Her eyes were too bright, her posture too stiff.
But I looked at the old phone in my hand and told myself I was being paranoid.
I had the phone, so I had everything under control.
“Fine,
“Don’t stay out too late. You’re still recovering.”
“I won’t. Thank you, Miss Evelyn.”
She turned and walked out, her pace a little too fast.
I looked down at her old phone, planning to hand it to Francis to see what Julian had been saying to her.
I should have felt happy, excited perhaps as I already had more than half the Sterling’s share, and I had her back in the office.
But as I sat there in the silence, the unease didn’t go away.
It grew.
Shaking off the anxiety i turned back to my computer.
I had everything covered.
Or so I thought.
Do you think Clara lied about the Office staff dinner celebration, if so where do you think she would go?