Chapter 3 whisper in the office
Whispers in the Office*
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Amara could feel it—the eyes, the whispers. Every intern who passed her in the hallway glanced twice. Some with pity. Others with envy.
And Janelle?
Janelle's stare had sharpened into a cold glare. She didn't speak again, but her silence was louder than words.
At lunch, Amara sat alone in the staff café, picking at a barely-warm sandwich. She was halfway through it when someone slid into the seat across from her.
"New girl," the man said casually, popping open a soda. "You're the one shadowing Blackwell, huh?"
Amara raised an eyebrow. "That obvious?"
He smiled. "Well, when the CEO sends a personal email to an intern, the whole top floor hears about it. I'm Nathan. Finance."
"Amara," she said, trying to smile.
Nathan leaned in. "Word of advice? Keep your guard up. He doesn't just test skills—he tests nerves, emotions, loyalty... all of it. And if he starts noticing you? Really noticing you? That's not always a good thing."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Amara asked, a little defensive.
Nathan shrugged. "Let's just say there were others before you. Promising, smart... distracted."
She frowned. "Distracted?"
"By him."
Before Amara could respond, a message popped up on her phone.: *From:* [email protected]
*Subject:* Change of Plans
*Body:*
"Dinner. 7PM. Bring the Q2 pitch draft. You'll be presenting it—alone."
Nathan saw the message light up her screen. He gave a low whistle.
"Well... guess you're already in the fire."
Amara didn't reply. She just stood, tossed her sandwich, and walked back to her desk.
Because whatever game Adrian Blackwell was playing—she wasn't going to lose.
Dinner & Power Plays*
Amara stood outside the towering glass building that housed Blackwell Enterprises long after the rest of the office had gone dark. She checked her watch—6:59 PM.
One deep breath. Then another.
She stepped into the executive elevator and hit the penthouse floor. Her heels clicked against the marble tiles as she approached the frosted glass doors. They opened without a sound.
Adrian Blackwell's office was bathed in a golden hue from the city lights. The skyline behind him looked painted—like he owned the entire city.
He looked up from his desk. "Right on time."
"I brought the Q2 draft," she said, holding out the folder.
He didn't take it. Instead, he stood, walked over to a bar by the window, and poured two glasses of red wine.
"I didn't come here for wine," Amara said, watching him.
He handed her a glass anyway. "But you came for opportunity. And that's rarely served without a little heat."
She took the wine but didn't drink. "Why me? There are other interns."
"Because you don't flinch," he replied, his voice low. "Even when you were insulted in public. Even with everyone whispering. You have the kind of spine this industry eats alive."
She stared at him. "And what do you want from me, Mr. Blackwell?": His gaze lingered too long. "Just loyalty."
"Nothing more?" she asked, tension rising.
He stepped closer, his tone unreadable. "For now."
Amara swallowed hard. She was playing a dangerous game. But she wasn't backing down.
She turned away from the view and laid the folder on his desk. "Then let me prove it—with results, not wine."
Adrian smirked. "Good. You start presenting to the board next week."
She blinked. "The board?"
"Welcome to the real game, Miss Hart."
—
Adrian's office was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below. The air between them had shifted—not tense, but sharp. He hadn't smiled once.
Amara placed the Q2 folder on his desk and waited for acknowledgment. None came.
"You asked me to bring this," she said, her voice steady.
He didn't look at her. "Leave it on the table."
She hesitated, then stepped back.
"Anything else?" His tone was flat, distant.
Amara studied him. The same man who once disarmed her with calm charisma now stared at the city like she wasn't even there.
"You said I'd be in the board meeting."
"I did."
"And the wine?" she asked, still holding the untouched glass.
"Tradition," he replied curtly.
She set the glass down on a side table. "I'm not here for tradition. I'm here to work."
Adrian finally turned to face her. His eyes were unreadable, almost cold.
"Then prove you can survive in silence," he said. "This place doesn't reward sensitivity."
Amara stood there, taking in the meaning. It wasn't a challenge. It was a warning.
Without another word, she nodded and turned toward the door.
"Miss Hart," he called out before she could leave.
She paused.
"Don't confuse opportunity for favor."
She didn't answer—just walked out, her heels echoing down the empty hallway.
Behind the glass walls, Adrian returned to his desk. Emotionless. Unbothered.
Or so it seemed.
The Familiar and the Far*
The apartment was quiet. London nights had a way of settling like mist—cold and heavy. Amara pulled her cardigan tighter around her and sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. She hesitated a moment, then tapped the contact saved as *Mum & Dad*.
It rang twice before her mother's warm voice came through.
"Amara? Darling!"
A breath caught in her throat. "Hi, Mum."
"You sound tired. Are you eating? How's work?"
"It's... fine," she lied.
Her father joined the call. "There's that voice. You surviving the rich folks' world yet?"
She forced a chuckle. "Barely. It's intense, Dad. My boss—he's... I don't know. Cold. Like nothing touches him."
"Then don't let him touch your peace," her mum said. "Work is work. Do your part. Don't let anyone turn you into someone you're not."
Amara stared out the window, the lights of the city blinking like distant thoughts.
"I'm trying. I promise."
"Don't just try, Ama," her dad said. "You've already made it farther than most. Just remember who you are."
Her eyes welled up, but she blinked the tears back.
"I love you both."
"We love you more. Now get some rest."
: As the call ended, Amara sat in silence. Their words wrapped around her like a blanket—but nothing could quiet the echo of Adrian's warning.
She turned off the light, the image of his cold stare still etched in her mind.
Tomorrow, she'd face him again.
But tonight, she was just a daughter—finding her strength in love, far from home.