Leah
I honestly didn’t know what to think or feel. My mind was reeling.
How?
I’d attacked my boss!
I’d slapped him across the face, rained insults on him, and still shown up to work like nothing happened.
Was this what he’d wanted me to discover on my own?
“Leah!” Rachel’s urgent call yanked me out of my spiral. I turned and realized I was still standing in the middle of the aisle. I quickly stepped out of the way.
“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Rachel studied my face with concern.
“Oh… nothing!” I said, forcing a smile while returning to my post.
It wasn’t nothing. I was thinking through every interaction I’d had with him, and realized they’d all been directed at the CEO of the entire company.
The more I thought about it, the more mortified I became.
“What should I do?” I muttered under my breath. I’m definitely getting fired soon. He hated me, I’d seen it in his eyes. It was too clear to be anything else. Plus he said I was a nuisance, unprofessional, and reckless. Who would want an employee like that?
“What… the… hell?”
I looked up at Rachel. Her mouth had fallen open, her eyes fixed straight ahead. I glanced around and saw similar expressions through the crowd.
I followed their collective gaze to the stage.
Mr. T…no, Mr. Thorne, was standing at the podium, looking extremely uncomfortable, a huge difference from the confident man who’d walked through those doors like he owned the world.
Is he having a panic attack?
His jaw was tight. His hands gripped the edges of the podium. Even from this distance, I could see the tension radiating through his entire body.
Then he looked my way and our eyes met.
My breath caught in my throat.
Those were raw emotions staring back at me. He looked like he was struggling, straining for control. The veins in his temple were visible even from here, but I could see him fighting to pull himself together.
Does this have anything to do with what Rachel told me earlier? Did he really have such a traumatic past that it forced him into hiding?
A flash of something flickered through my mind, another moment of déjà vu. I’d heard something similar before, from someone. I’d heard plenty of stories over the years, but this one stood out, nagging at the edges of my memory. I just couldn’t place it.
My mind went straight to the dream I’d had the night he kissed me. The vivid, steamy dream I’d tried desperately to bury and never think about again.
There was no way I was attracted to this man, this man who had no respect for women, who’d treated me like garbage. That’s why I hadn’t let myself dwell on it.
But something had happened at the end of that dream. Something almost sinister.
He’d whispered in my ear: ”It’s the crest you stole from me.”
It was ridiculous, of course. I’d met that man back in a completely different city, years ago. And with the way that man had sent his men after me back then, if they were even remotely connected, I would have been arrested by now.
Yeah. My mind was just playing tricks on me.
It did that all the time, especially with men I’d wanted to date. I was weary of all men. That’s why I’d stayed single all these years.
The echo of Damien’s strong, confident voice filled the hall, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked back at the stage and saw a completely different man. It was as if the struggling, vulnerable person we’d witnessed moments ago had been a trick of the light or a shared hallucination.
I glanced at Rachel, who returned my look with a bewildered shrug.
Everything felt too complicated now. I wanted to keep my job, but there was no way I was going to beg him for it. Not anymore.
Yes. I’ll leave.
Right after this event, before I could be humiliated again, I’d walk away and never look back. I’d still follow up on Matthew’s case, make sure he wasn’t going to get fired because of me, but that was it.
With that resolve firmly in place, I went about my duties feeling lighter than I had in days. I knew it wouldn’t be easy starting over, but I’d saved up enough to sustain my family for a while.
***
Near the end of the event, I slowly slipped away from my post.
I needed to gather my things, pick up Jason, and leave before anyone noticed I was gone. I’d fill Rachel in later and write a proper resignation letter. But right now, I just needed to get out.
The makeshift daycare was chaos.
It was supposed to be a small, quiet space for a handful of guests’ children, but the noise was deafening. Screams bounced off the walls. Tantrums erupted in corners. Children knocked over toys and demanded snacks with the urgency of tiny dictators.
The three nannies looked completely overwhelmed.
One was bouncing a wailing baby on her hip while trying to redirect a toddler who was banging a wooden block against the table. Another was in the middle of changing a diaper, and from the expression on her face, things were not going well. The third was chasing after a little boy whose diaper was clearly in desperate need of changing.
It was absolute chaos.
When one of the nannies spotted me, she straightened immediately and called out to the others, who scrambled to look somewhat put together.
“We’ve requested backup from the agency,” she said quickly, her smile strained.
I nodded casually, trying not to make them feel worse than they clearly already did.
“I’m here to pick up my son, Jason,” I said, handing over the pickup card I’d been given earlier.
She gave me a tired smile, took the card, and began scanning the room for the child wearing the matching number around his neck.
I helped her look, moving through the clusters of children. But halfway across the room, something felt wrong.
Jason should have run to me the second he heard my voice or saw my face. He always did. Was he asleep somewhere?
I looked around the room more carefully now, checking every face, every corner. I even glanced at the adults just to make sure none of them were carrying him.
But Jason wasn’t there.
My stomach dropped.
“Where is my son?”
The nanny’s smile faltered. She looked around more frantically now, calling to the other nannies. “Has anyone seen number twelve? Little boy, blonde hair?”
They all started looking.
“He was here earlier,” one of them said. “I saw him playing with the blocks.”
“When?” I demanded.
“Maybe… twenty minutes ago?”
Twenty minutes.
My heart started pounding. “Did anyone see him leave? Did someone pick him up?”
They exchanged glances in panic.
“No one should have been able to take him without the card,” the first nanny said with uncertainty.
I spun around, searching the room again as if Jason might suddenly materialize. But he wasn’t there.
My son was gone.