Chapter 4: First Day of Bullying

~Isabel~

5:45 AM.

The alarm clock on my nightstand rang, it sounded like a literal siren waking me up in one jolt.

I rolled out of the silk sheets that felt way too smooth and expensive, like they were making fun of my dry low maintenance skin and stood in the middle of a walk-in closet the size of my old apartment.

My eyes landed on the dark floral dress hanging there. I reached for it, my fingers just brushing the fabric, before William’s voice hissed in my head:

(“Take this off and burn it.”)

I pulled out a stiff charcoal blazer and a crisp white shirt from my suitcase instead. It was professional, uncomfortable, and felt like wearing a suit of armor.

After showering I dressed, looking at myself in the full-length mirror, my reflection was that of a stranger in a borrowed life.

Why was I doing this?

I wasn't here for a free ride. I had spent two long, exhausting years back in Brooklyn, New York working every shift I could find, saving every single penny just to pay my own tuition and get into this university.

My mom thought her new marriage meant I could finally relax, but I knew better.

I still needed money for my textbooks, my transit, and just to keep myself going without asking Arthur for a handout.

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

By 6:55 AM, I was standing in the grand hallway. The marble floors were polished so bright I could see my own nervous face reflecting back at me. I checked my watch. 6:58.

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

William was leaning against the doorway of the study, a silver espresso cup in one hand and a leather briefcase in the other. He was wearing a navy suit that looked like it had been painted on him. He looked like 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. He stopped just inches away, and that scent of sandalwood and cold breeze hit me again. He looked me up and down, his eyes stopping at my plain white collar.

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

"My shoes are fine."

"Your shoes are for a waitress, Isabel. You’re an intern at Sterling Global now. Try to keep up."

I followed him out to a black Bentley. The ride into the city was a tomb of silence. He spent the whole forty minutes staring at a tablet with a cold, robotic focus. He didn't give me a tour. He just existed in his own bubble of power, leaving me feeling like I couldn't breathe.

When we pulled up to the Sterling Global headquarters—a massive glass tower that looked like it was stabbing the clouds—my stomach did a slow, sick flip.

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

The doors opened on the 50th 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 physical 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 back to me, her expression turning cold. She hauled up a stack of heavy cardboard boxes, slamming them onto a small, cramped desk in the corner.

"These are 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 four thousand pages."

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

"In this building, we don't ask for extra time, Miss Mayfield." She stepped closer. “Now, get to work."

I sat down. The chair was uncomfortable and the mountain of paper felt like a 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 maintenance fees I owed the school.

I picked up the first page and started to read.

*

Five hours later, my eyes were burning and my throat was dry. I hadn't had any water since morning. Every time I looked up, I could see William through the glass of his office. He never once looked my way.

By 6:00 PM, the lights dimmed automatically. My fingers were stained with ink, and my head felt like it was in a vice.

A shadow fell over my desk.

"You're still here," William noted.

"I'm not finished," I said, my voice sounding 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, bringing 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 were almost touching. "I worked two years just to afford the seat I'm sitting in. You 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. "Ink on your face. Cheap suit. Exhausted eyes. Why don't you leave all these and go back to Newyork huh?”

“Never! NewsFlash Step-Brother dearest, I am just getting started” I said defiantly staring right into his eyes.

He pulled away suddenly.

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

I looked up, my heart hammering with so much rage.

"Wear the floral dress tomorrow," he said, a dark look in his eyes. "I want to see if you'll actually defy me..."