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Chapter 19: The Wrong Floor
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2025-11-15 01:15:53The 12th floor felt like a different world.
It didn’t have the sleek glass walls or soft lighting of the executive floor. Instead, the air buzzed with printers, chatter, and the loud clicking of keyboards. People moved quickly and talked loudly, juggling spreadsheets and meetings. It was chaos compared to the perfect, controlled silence of Alexander’s world.
And everyone stared at her.
As Lena stepped off the elevator, conversations paused for a second — a moment too long — before resuming in hushed whispers. She kept her head down, clutching her bag a little tighter.
A woman with a messy bun and glasses walked up to her with a wide smile.
“You must be Lena!” she said brightly. “I’m Sarah. Welcome to Finance!”
Lena tried to smile. “Thank you.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sarah continued, lowering her voice. “It’s not as scary as it looks. People just… notice new faces.”
No — they noticed her.
Her reassignment wasn’t a secret.
Sarah led her to a small desk squeezed between two filing cabinets.
“It’s not glamorous,” Sarah admitted, “but you’ll get used to it.”
Lena swallowed. “It’s fine.”
She sat down, placing her plant on the corner of the desk. Her hands trembled slightly — not from the new job, but from the note she found yesterday.
“Moving floors won’t save you.”
Who wrote it?
Who was watching?
Before Lena could settle in, a man with rolled-up sleeves leaned over her desk.
“So… you’re the one from upstairs,” he said, smirking.
Lena’s stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”
“Relax,” he chuckled. “Name’s Dylan. Heard you used to work closely with the big boss.”
She forced a tight smile. “I was an assistant. That’s all.”
Dylan shrugged. “Sure. If you say so.”
He walked away, but his meaning lingered like smoke.
By noon, Lena barely made it through the endless spreadsheets. She kept glancing at the elevator, hoping for a glimpse of Alexander — even though she knew he wouldn’t come.
He couldn’t.
But at 12:43 PM, her phone lit up.
Alex:
Lunch? Roof. 5 minutes.
Please.
Her heart jumped.
She hesitated…
The rooftop was empty when she arrived, except for him — standing near the edge, back turned, shoulders tense as he stared out over the city.
When he turned around, relief flashed across his eyes.
“You came,” he said quietly.
Lena swallowed. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But I needed to see you.”
He stepped closer, stopping just inches from her. The wind rustled his suit jacket, lifting the scent she knew too well. Her chest ached.
“How’s your first day?” he asked.
“Everyone’s staring at me,” she whispered. “Like I’m some… scandal.”
“You’re not.”
“But they think I’m the reason you’re being targeted by the Board.”
He exhaled sharply. “They’re looking for anything to use against me. You’re just their easiest weapon.”
Lena looked away, blinking back the sting in her eyes. “I hate that I’m hurting you.”
“You’re not,” he murmured. “They are.”
A moment passed — heavy and full of longing.
Then Alexander reached into his pocket and handed her something.
A folded note.
She frowned. “What’s this?”
“It was slid under my office door this morning.”
Her blood ran cold.
She unfolded it with shaking fingers.
“If you don’t control her… we will.”
Lena’s breath caught. “Oh my God…”
Alexander stepped closer, cupping her elbows gently. “Lena, this is no longer office gossip. Someone is threatening you.”
“Me?” she whispered, horrified.
“Yes,” he said, voice tight with fear and rage. “And I swear I will find who’s behind this.”
Lena felt her knees weaken. The city stretched beneath them, but her world had suddenly shrunk to the space between them — dangerous, fragile, electric.
She looked up at him. “What do we do now?”
Before he could answer, the rooftop door flew open.
Both of them turned.
Dylan stood there, eyes wide… and smiling.
“Well, well,” he said slowly. “What do we have here?”
Lena’s heart stopped.
Alexander stepped in front of her, jaw clenched, posture protective.
But Dylan’s smirk only widened.
“Guess the rumors aren’t rumors after all.”
And Lena realized something terrifying:
They weren’t just dealing with whispers anymore.
They were dealing with witnesses.
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