Chapter 5: The Glass Fortress

​I was in the middle of sketching a rough charcoal portrait on the back of my notepad when a shadow fell across my cubicle.

​"Rory?" a junior analyst named Mark asked, tapping his tablet. "Mr. Logan wants to see you in his office."

​My hand froze, the piece of charcoal snapping in half between my fingers. I took a slow breath, brushing the black dust off my palms. I knew this was coming. Sooner or later, he was bound to drag me into his lair.

​"Thanks, Mark," I said, forcing a calm smile as I stood up, smoothing down my blazer.

​Walking down the long, carpeted hall felt like walking to the gallows. I reached the frosted glass door at the end, took one last steadying breath, and gave two sharp knocks.

​"Enter," his voice called out—deep, smooth, and commanding.

​I pushed the door open. Billy was sitting behind a massive dark oak desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking absurdly handsome framed by the Chicago skyline behind him.

​"Take a seat, Miss Sinclair," he said, gesturing to the leather chair opposite him.

​I walked over and sat down, keeping my posture straight and my face completely blank.

​Silence stretched between us for a long, heavy moment before Billy leaned back, resting his chin in his hand. "Well, this is a bit awkward, isn't it?"

​I blinked, playing completely dumb. "What do you mean, Mr. Logan?"

​Billy scoffed, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his green eyes flashed with amusement. "That’s not what you called me the other night."

​I rolled my eyes, dropping the polite facade. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? We don't need to talk about that."

​"So you blocked my number, and then you were planning on ghosting me physically, too?" Billy asked, raising an eyebrow. "The least you could have done after seeing me yesterday was come into my office, introduce yourself, and apologize for blocking me."

​I stared at him, incredulous. "That's what you're concerned about? That I blocked you?"

​"What else am I supposed to be concerned about?"

​"You're engaged!" I snapped, my voice rising slightly. "You cheated!"

​Billy didn't even flinch. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his sharp features. "Oh. They told you. You found out already."

​"Why wouldn't you be concerned?" I countered, leaning forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I am completely uncomfortable with the fact that I slept with an engaged man!"

​Billy leaned in, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze locking onto mine with ruthless intensity. "Trust me, considering the way you blocked me without a second thought, I know this isn't your first eat-and-run. And I'm very sure I'm not the first man you've slept with who turned out to be unavailable."

​A wave of pure fury washed over me. "Do not speak about my sex life like you know me!"

​"I'm still your boss, remember?" Billy said, his tone dropping into a quiet, icy command. "Watch your tone, Miss Sinclair."

​I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to shut up. I sat back in the chair, crossing my arms tight against my chest, glaring at him in utter silence.

​Billy studied me for a second before changing the subject. "Why are you even working here anyway? Aren't you rich?"

​"I could say the exact same about you," I shot back coldly.

​"Well, at least I'm working for my family's legacy," Billy smirked, tapping his desk. "You're working under someone else—practically kissing my feet."

​"That is none of your business," I said, my jaw clenching. "Some rich people don't want family money to be their only source of wealth."

​Billy let out a dry laugh. "Well, you must really love stress and problems in your life then."

​I stood straight up, turning toward the heavy glass door. "Can I leave?"

​"Yeah, sure," Billy said casually, leaning back in his chair. "Just so we're clear—you can't tell anyone in this building about the other night. I'd like to stay engaged."

​I paused at the doorway, turning back to offer him my sweet, most lethal smile.

​"And I'd like to keep my job," I said smoothly. "Have a good one... daddy. Isn't that what you like to be called?"

​Before he could even process the words, I pulled open the heavy door and walked out into the hall, leaving him sitting in total silence.

When 1:00 PM rolled around, I grabbed my bag and headed straight for the elevator, taking my lunch break early.

​As much as I hid behind a chaotic, non-committal front, there was something I’d been secretly working on for months. Something I hadn't breathed a word about to Ivory, Emily, or Jane.

​I loved my sisters—I would die for them, and Ivory had practically broken her back raising us after our adoptive parents died. But no matter how much love filled our home, there was an empty, aching void inside me that never quite went away. Deep down, I knew it was the root of my attachment issues. People I loved had a tragic habit of dying or leaving, so I built walls. I used people, had my fun, and ghosted them before they could ever get close enough to hurt me.

​I needed to know where I came from. I didn't need a emotional reunion or a place in their lives—I just wanted to know who they were. To know if they were even alive.

​I took a cab downtown to a quiet, upscale bistro, my pulse racing the entire ride.

​Sitting at a corner table was Ms. Jade, a senior representative from the regional adoption registry whom I’d spent four agonizing months trying to pin down. She was a sharp, elegant woman in her late fifties, with dark-rimmed glasses and a thick manila file resting under her hands.

​"Rory," Ms. Jade acknowledged with a small, professional nod as I slid into the seat across from her. "You were very persistent with your emails."

​"I had to be," I said softly, tucking my hands into my lap so she wouldn't see them shaking. "I know these records are sealed, but I'm an adult now. I just need answers."

​Ms. Jade tapped her manicured fingernails against the manila folder. "The Sinclair family went through extraordinary legal lengths to protect you girls after the accident. But as an adult, you have the right to request a non-identifying background search on your biological file."

​My heart slammed against my ribs. I stared at the closed folder, the secrets of my entire origin sitting just inches away.

​"I'm not trying to disrupt anyone's life," I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need to know who I am. I need to know why I was left behind."

​Ms. Jade looked at me, her sharp gaze softening just a fraction. "I have the preliminary social background report right here. But once you open this door, Rory, you can't close it. Are you sure you're ready for whatever is inside?"

​I stared at the thick paper folder, my chest aching with years of unspoken fear, loneliness, and heavy attachment issues. I took a deep breath, resting my hand over the cover.

​"I'm ready," I whispered.