Chapter 5: The Ghost in the Glass

“Miss Monroe. We need to talk. Now.” 

The voice was clipped. Controlled.

Then silence the call cut before I could respond. 

The air in my lungs went thin. 

I left my desk, walking fast but trying not to run. My heels hit the polished floor too loudly, each step a little too sharp. My stomach tightened with every echo. Damien Roth hadn’t spoken to me since the rooftop. Not a word. Not a glance. He’d walked past me in the corridors like I was just another nameless employee. 

And now… this? 

The hallway leading to the executive offices felt longer than usual, lined with silent glass doors reflecting my own pale face back at me. My fingers twitched at my side, and I forced myself to take one deep breath before I reached his door. 

I pushed it open 

And stopped dead. 

Not Damien. 

A tall man stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette that bled thin threads of smoke into the air. The skyline stretched behind him in a haze of glass and steel, but his presence swallowed the view. His suit was darker than Damien’s usual charcoal black, precise, without a wrinkle. 

He turned at the sound of the door, and his eyes met mine. They were sharp. Calculating. But cold cold in a way that made Damien’s usual reserve feel almost warm by comparison. 

“Sir Damien Roth, you called me,” I said before I could stop myself. 

One brow lifted, almost imperceptibly. “I’m not Damien.” His voice was deeper, a low rasp that made every syllable deliberate. “As of Monday, you’ll report directly to me. I’m your new supervisor.” 

I blinked, trying to process. “I ” 

“That will be all,” he cut in. “You can go.” 

My throat felt tight. “Yes… sir.” 

I left without another word, but the back of my neck prickled all the way down the hall. 

I’d barely sat back at my desk when Cassandra appeared. 

She didn’t walk into a room; she entered like she owned it. Every click of her heels was a statement. Her dress was cream silk, hugging her in all the ways that made people look twice. Her hair caught the light as if it had been positioned for a photo shoot. 

She stopped at my cubicle, leaning casually against the partition. 

“Damien was telling me about this new charity he’s funding,” she said, voice dripping with a smooth sweetness that almost masked the blade beneath. “So inspiring, don’t you think? Not everyone understands that kind of passion.” 

Her gaze lingered on me a beat too long, the corner of her mouth curling slightly just enough to make her meaning clear. 

It didn’t stop there. 

“Damien and I are having lunch in his private dining room today,” she added later, dropping the line like an afterthought. “Much better than the crowds downstairs. Privacy matters at his level, you understand.” 

Each word landed like a dart.

I told myself to ignore her.

I told myself she wasn’t worth my attention. 

But she had Damien’s. 

By mid-afternoon, the pressure was too much. I escaped to the executive washroom the only place on this floor where the air didn’t smell like ambition. 

Cold water splashed over my face. I kept my head low, watching the rivulets drip into the marble sink, hoping they would carry some of the heaviness with them. When I finally looked up, the woman in the mirror barely looked like me. My eyes were tired, my skin too pale. My hair was pulled so tightly it felt like it was holding my skull together. 

“Still trying to wash away your sins, Selena?” 

The voice was smoke and silk, sliding into the room without warning. 

I looked to my left. Cassandra was at the next sink, blotting her lips with a tissue before reaching into her clutch. 

“What do you want, Cassie?” My voice was flat, but inside my chest, my heart picked up speed. 

She smiled without warmth. “Just checking on my dear little sister.” She drew out dear until it became something poisonous. “You look pale. Is work too much? Or…” Her eyes flicked toward the door, then back to mine. “Is it something else?” 

Her lipstick tube clicked open. Deep red. Bold. She applied it slowly, deliberately, watching my reflection as much as her own. 

“You know,” she said casually, “Damien mentioned something interesting the other day.” 

My pulse skipped. Damien mentioned me? 

“He likes people who are genuine,” she went on. “People who aren’t afraid to be themselves.” 

A flicker of hope sparked small, foolish. 

Then she twisted the knife. “I told him that’s you. So authentic. So… unpolished.” She smiled at her own reflection. “He laughed. Found it amusing.” 

The tissue in my hand tore. 

“In Damien’s world,” she continued, capping her lipstick with a snap, “you don’t wait for opportunities. You claw for them. You take them.” Her perfume was heavy, expensive, suffocating. “And you? You just wait. That’s why he’ll never really see you.” 

She slid her lipstick into her clutch. “Anyway, Damien’s taking me to that new rooftop restaurant tonight. Best view in the city. Not somewhere just anyone can get in.” 

With one last smirk, she turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her. 

I stayed where I was, staring at the marble counter. 

Not somewhere just anyone can get in. 

Just like Damien’s world.

Just like Damien himself. 

The words stuck to my ribs, sharp and unshakable. 

I turned back to the mirror. My hair looked wrong. My face looked wrong. Everything about me looked like I had shrunk to fit into a space I didn’t belong in. 

Humiliation simmered into something else. Heavier. Hotter. 

Beneath it, a spark still burned. 

The rooftop.

His eyes sharp, searching.

The sound of his voice, low and unexpected: Refreshing. 

Why had he said that? Why had he looked at me like that? And why now, when Cassandra was everywhere, did I keep feeling it like someone was just out of sight, watching me? 

The washroom was silent. Too silent. 

I glanced at the stalls. Empty. The air felt thicker, as if the room had drawn a slow, quiet breath. 

I turned toward the door 

The light above flickered. 

Once.

Twice. 

Something shifted in the reflection. A blur, there and gone in less than a heartbeat. 

My own breath caught. 

I turned back to the mirror 

And froze.