Chapter 4: First Day of Bullying

~Isabel~

"Mr. Sterling is my father," William replied, leaning forward. Then, whispered so the whole room could hear, "You can call me William. After all... we are family now… right?"

He let the threat hang there for a second. Then his eyes flicked down to my dress one last time, and his lip curled in disgust.

"And Isabel? Do me a favor. Don’t wear floral clothes in my office, or in this house. It looks cheap, and I won't tolerate it."

Heat crawled up my neck. I shoved my chair back, the wood screeching loud against the floor.

"I don’t wear cheap, William," I retorted, my voice shaking but loud. "I wear what I earned."

I didn’t wait for them to say anything. I turned and walked out, feeling his eyes burn into my back the entire way.

I didn't stop walking fast until I reached my room and the door clicked shut. Leaning my back against the cool wood, I finally let go of the breath that had been stuck in my lungs forever.

My hands were trembling.

Minutes later I started pacing across the floor, feeling like the walls were closing in on me. How do I deal with this?

I needed to calm down. I figured a glass of water might help... or maybe a time machine to take me back to New York.

Since the water was more likely, I snuck out of my room, silently walking down the staircase.

The Sterling estate looked even more intimidating at night. I wandered through the hallways until I found the kitchen. It was huge, full of shiny appliances and counters. I grabbed a glass, filled it up, and pressed the cold rim to my forehead to stop my head from spinning.

"Planning your escape?"

I gasped, spinning around so fast water splashed over my hand and onto the floor.

William stood in the doorway. He was in a simple white tee and black sweatpants, but without his professional look on, he wasn't any less scary. If anything, he looked wilder. More dangerous.

"Just getting water," I managed to say, setting the glass down.

He walked into the kitchen, his footsteps silent.

The only light came from the small lamps over the island, casting shadows across his chest. He moved slow, circling the island until he stood right on my side of it.

"Arthur is easy to trick," William said, his voice low, but somehow echoing off the walls.

"He sees a pretty face and a sad story, and he opens his wallet to help. But I don't have the same blind spots my father does."

I gripped the edge of the counter behind me.

"I don't want his money. And I definitely don't want yours."

"Right. The usual line." He took a step toward me. Then another.

Suddenly, he was so close I had to tilt my head back just to look him in the eye. He slammed one hand down on the counter right next to my hip, trapping me between his body and the edge.

"You just happen to be moving into a thirty-million-pound mansion and taking a fancy internship you aren't even qualified for. Total coincidence, right?"

He was cold with his words, I could feel the heat from his body. Looking him up this close he looked stressed, like he'd had a long day.

I hated that I noticed. I hated that my heart was beating like crazy this close to him.

"I may have gotten the internship without needed qualifications," I snapped, refusing to back down. "but I earned my grades. I earned my spot in college. And I’m going to earn this internship, whether you like it or not."

William’s gaze dropped to my mouth for a split second.

The air between us suddenly felt like it had been sucked out of the room.

"You put on a good show," he murmured, leaning in an inch closer. "The hardworking daughter playing the victim in her cheap little dress."

He raised his free hand. For a second, I thought he was going to touch my neck. Instead, his fingers hooked the floral collar of my dress. His knuckles brushed against my skin, and it felt like a spark of electricity.

"I meant what I said at dinner, Isabel," he whispered, his thumb brushing the dress. "Take this off and burn it. You’re in the big leagues now. If you want to survive my office, you’re going to have to stop acting like a charity case."

I knocked his hand away. Our skin touched for a second.

"I'll wear whatever I want," I shot back, though my voice sounded way more breathless than I wanted it to.

William’s eyes darkened.

He stared at me for a long, intense moment. The silence was so tight it felt like it was going to snap. He looked like he wanted to tear me apart, and the scariest part was that I wasn't sure I wanted him to stop.

Finally, he stepped back, taking that suffocating heat with him.

"Monday morning. 7:00 AM sharp," he commanded, his voice turning cold and professional again.

He turned to leave, pausing just as he hit the shadows of the hallway. He looked back over his shoulder with a cruel, smirking grin.

"Don't be late... sister."

He let the word hang there like a drop of poison before he disappeared into the dark, leaving me shaking and alone in the kitchen…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5:45 AM.

My alarm jolted me awake, cutting straight through my brain like an emergency siren. I sat up, my heart racing as my eyes tried to adjust to the dim room. The sheets beneath me felt too soft, a mocking reminder of a luxury lifestyle I hadn't earned.

I stood in the center of a walk-in closet the size of my old apartment. My eyes landed on the floral dress hanging near the front. My fingers brushed the fabric, and I remembered exactly what William said last night: 'Take this off and burn it.'

Who was he to tell me what to wear?

The thought just made me angry. I pushed the dress aside, grabbed a charcoal blazer and a plain white shirt from my suitcase, and tossed them onto the bed.

After showering, I dressed and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. My reflection looked like a stranger in a borrowed life.

My mom thought her new marriage meant I could finally relax, but I knew better. I still needed money for textbooks, transit, and just to keep myself going without once asking Arthur for a handout.

This internship wasn't just a resume builder; it was my lifeline. I had to endure William only because he was the gatekeeper to the paycheck and the future I was ready to bleed for.

By 6:55 AM, I stood in the grand hallway. The floors shone so bright I saw my own nervous face reflected back at me. I checked my watch. 6:58 AM.

"Punctual. That’s a new one for your family."

William leaned against the doorway, a coffee mug in one hand and a leather briefcase in the other. He wore a navy suit that looked like it was painted on him, as if he'd already conquered three countries before breakfast.

"I told you I work," I said, grabbing my bag. "I don’t need a lecture on being on time."

He walked toward me, slow and steady, stopping just inches away. That scent of his cologne clouded my senses like cool breeze. He looked me up and down, his gaze stopped at my plain white collar.

"Better," he murmured. "But the shoes are a disaster. We’ll have to fix that."

"My shoes look fine."

"Your shoes belong to a waitress, Isabel. You're working at Sterling Global now. Try to keep up."

I followed him out to a black Bentley.

The ride into the office was a tomb of silence. He spent the whole twenty minutes staring at a tablet with strict focus. When we pulled up to the Sterling Global headquarters, a glass tower that looked like it stabbed the clouds…my stomach did a slow flip.

He didn't give me a tour when we arrived. He just moved in his own bubble of power, leaving me feeling like I couldn't breathe properly around him.

"Follow me. And keep your mouth shut until I tell you otherwise," William said.

The elevator doors opened on the fiftieth floor. A woman with her hair pulled back so tight it looked painful stood at a desk. She looked up, her eyes flicking from William to me with instant dislike.

"Sophia," William said. "This is Isabel Mayfield. She’s the new intern. Give her the backlog from the Manchester merger. I want the audits checked by the end of the day."

Sophia’s lips curled into a mean smile. "Of course, Mr. Sterling."

And with that, he disappeared into his office.

Sophia turned to me, her expression going cold. She hauled up a stack of heavy cardboard boxes, slamming them onto a small, cramped desk in the corner.

"These contain the paper invoices for the last three years," she hissed. "Most of this is already on the computer, but William wants a manual check. It's about one thousand page. See that you get done with it by the end of the day."

"By the end of the day?" I asked.

"You're an intern, you should learn the ropes. In this building, we don't ask for extra time, Miss Mayfield. Now, get to work."

I sat down on the uncomfortable chair.

The mountain of paper before me looked like a dug grave. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I couldn't quit. I needed this job to pay for the textbooks sitting in my digital cart and the fees I owed the school. I picked up the first page and started to read.

Five hours later, my eyes burned and my throat felt dry. I hadn't tasted water since morning.

Every time I looked up, I saw William through the glass of his office, but he never once looked my way.

By 6:00 PM, the lights dimmed automatically. My fingers carried ink stains. Suddenly, a shadow fell over my desk.

"You're still here," William noted.

"I'm not finished," I said, my voice scratchy.

He stepped closer, picking up a ledger. "Sophia gave you this to break you," he said quietly. "It’s dead data. It doesn't even matter."

I felt a surge of hot, stinging anger. "Then why did you let her give it to me?"

William leaned over, planting his hands on the wood to bring his face level with mine.

"Because I wanted to see if you’d quit," he whispered. "I wanted to see if you’d run back to your mother and cry."

"I don't quit," I hissed, leaning in until our noses almost touched. "You just want to see me fail so you can feel better about being a jerk, but it's not happening."

His gaze dropped to my lips, and this time, he didn't look away. He reached out, his thumb catching a smudge of ink on my cheek. He didn't wipe it away, he just smeared it, his skin warm against mine.

"You're a mess, Isabel," he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. "Ink on your face. Cheap suit. Exhausted eyes. Why don't you leave all this and go back to New York?"

"Never. Newsflash, stepbrother dearest, I am just getting started," I said, staring right into his eyes.

He pulled away suddenly, as if my gaze stung him.

"Go home. The car is waiting downstairs. And Isabel?"

I looked up, my chest tight with rage.

"Expect a lot more work tomorrow," he said, a dark look entering his eyes. "We will see if you can survive here."

He walked away without another word. The elevator doors closed behind him, leaving me alone with the hum of the lights and ink on my fingers.

His cocky attitude was the most annoying thing about him.

I grabbed my bag and looked at the dark office one last time.

"Give me real work tomorrow," I whispered to the empty floor. "Not trash."

Downstairs, the Bentley was waiting. But my blood was still boiling. Tomorrow, I will prove to him that I'm here for real business…