Ezra Harrington

EZRA

“You don't get to talk to me like that.”

No one's said that to me in years.

No one's had the nerve. 

And yet, there she stands — shaking, yes, but unflinching, daring to challenge me, in my own boardroom.

Is this bravery or foolishness?

But still, I've seen that look.

I wore it once.

Back when I still thought emotion was a strength.

Before I learned better.

I watch as she walks out like a storm, no apologies, no backward glance, just fury. And for the first time in a long time, I find myself… speechless.

The door clicks shut behind her and the silence she leaves behind is deafening.

My lips form into a thin line and I sit back on my chair and pick up my pen.

My newly assigned assistant clears her throat and I spare her a glance and pick up a pen, watching as she fiddles with her fingers.

“I… I'm sorry about that. Ehmm, Thea is just… well.” She exhales sharply through her nose.

Thea. 

Thea Calloway.

This can't be the same person uncle told me to keep right? This can't be the same ‘perfect managing director’.

Uncle’s words. Not mine.

I tap the ball of the pen against the desk and glance at my assistant whom I'd forgotten her name again. She's still fumbling for words, clearly debating whether to defend her or distance herself. I don't say a word, I let the silence do what it always does; unravel them.

“She's not usually like that.” She says quietly. “I mean… she's always punctual. Calm. Professional. Whatever made her act out like that… it has to be the reason she missed yesterday.”

I don't respond to her immediately. I just stare at her and let the weight of my silence settle the way it always does. It's become second in nature now.

When I finally speak, my voice is clipped. “I don't run a charity case…”

“Nora.” She hurriedly says.

“Nora.” I repeat.

I hope I don't forget again.

“And of course sir.”

“Then don't make excuses for her.” I add, eyes on the documents in front of me. 

The air is awkward now and I don't need anyone to tell me I'm making it harder.

“Dismissed.” I say, not lifting my head from the files that didn't really hold my attention.

She nods and turns to make her way out of the room, leaving me alone.

I glance at the empty chair next to mine for minutes longer. 

Thea Calloway might think I'm a misogynist.

She might think I singled her out.

She might even be right.

Afterall, my Uncle rarely shows interest in anyone but he did with her. 

A firecracker.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and dial the number I didn't think to use so soon.

He picks up after two rings.

“Ezra, what a lovely surprise.”

“Good afternoon to you too and happy retirement, Uncle.”

“Happy retirement it is. The weather here in Mauritius is so lovely.” 

I grit my teeth, my hand clenched on the table. This man actually got me to come here just so he could start his retirement at 45.

“Why did you call?”

“You said I should keep Thea Calloway.”

“Yes I did.” He says, munching on something from the other line. “That lady is just too efficient despite—”

“She snapped.” I interrupt.

There's a long pause, then he laughs.

“I'm sure that's because you are a pain in the arse.”

I snort, but say nothing.

Then I ask, “Despite what?”

“Huh? 

“You said she's efficient despite… what?”

There's a beat of silence. Just the sound of waves crashing faintly in the background and his steady chewing.

“Oh, I shouldn't have said that. Forget about it.”

I lean forward, my spine straightening.

“What do I need to know about her?”

“Nothing that changes her brilliance. She can be a storm but—”

“Just answer the damn question.”

He sighs. “Let’s just say she's been through some things… personal. But she still shows up. She doesn't quit. That's why I vouched for her.”

“I don't like liabilities.”

“Then maybe don't act like one.” He chuckles. “If you want to know stuff about your employees to understand them better, run a background check on them.”

I hang up without saying goodbye.

Not only because I'm being rude. But also because I don't like the feeling crawling up my chest.

It's not sympathy.

God no.

I don't know her. I don't want to know her.

But…

No.

I unlock my phone, thumb hovering for a beat before I type out a message.

To: Jalen (IT)

Subject: Employee Records

Need a full profile list of the staff in my division. Put Thea Calloway and Nora Smith on top. Basic info only. Family. Education. Work history. No gossip.

I stare at the screen for a second before hitting send.

It's not personal.

It's protocol.

At least that's what I tell myself.