chapter 2

Tyra’s grip loosened, the baseball bat clattering to the concrete floor. The lenses of her cronies’ phones swiveled, their recording abruptly halted as a group of men and women filled the doorway. The air in the supply room seemed to thicken.

The man at the forefront moved with a quiet authority that amplified the silence. Each measured step echoed, the sound bouncing off the stacked shelves. A palpable chill radiated from him, a subtle tension that made Tyra and her friends instinctively recoil. He stopped before them, his height and broad shoulders casting a shadow.

The tailored suit strained slightly across his powerful frame. His face, sharply defined and undeniably handsome, held an expression of glacial displeasure as his gaze fixed on Tyra.

"Damn," she thought, a flicker of unwanted attraction momentarily eclipsing her fear. "Who is this?"

Her internal distraction was short-lived. He moved past them, his attention now on Ashleigh, bound and slumped against a stack of boxes. With swift, efficient movements, he untied her wrists.

Ashleigh sagged, her knees buckling as soon as the restraints were gone. He caught her before she fell, his arm a steady support around her.

"Playing the victim, are we?" Tyra sneered inwardly, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes. "Opportunistic little—"

Relief washed over Ashleigh in a dizzying wave. The terror that had been a tight knot in her chest began to loosen. Her legs felt like water. Leaning into the unexpected strength supporting her, she looked up. His eyes, deep-set and intense, seemed to hold a question she couldn't decipher.

His features were strong, a compelling mix of refinement and ruggedness. A stray lock of dark hair had escaped the slicked-back style, falling slightly across his forehead. Now wasn't the time for such observations. A silent pressure on his arm was all the prompting he needed.

He straightened, supporting her as she found her footing. Turning, his gaze swept over his entourage, settling on a composed woman with a severe hairstyle. Mrs. Smith stepped forward immediately.

“I believe an explanation is in order,” he stated, his voice low and even, before turning his attention back to Tyra, who flinched under his scrutiny.

“They were… they were bullying me, sir. Like they always do,” a shaky voice interjected.

All eyes turned to Ashleigh, who stood a few feet away, supported but upright. She met their surprised stares, noting the venomous glint in Tyra’s eyes.

“No, sir, she meant to say that…” Tyra began, her voice laced with false innocence.

“She wanted to hit me with that,” Ashleigh said, gesturing weakly to the discarded bat, her gaze unwavering despite Tyra’s furious glare. Mrs. Smith hurried to Ashleigh’s side, her face etched with concern as she quickly assessed her.

Relief flickered across Mrs. Smith’s features before she turned back to the man, her composure crumbling. She dropped to one knee. “Mr. Cagliari, I sincerely apologize for this egregious oversight. I take full responsibility for my ignorance.”

The name hung in the air, a heavy weight. A fresh wave of fear washed over Tyra and her friends. Mr. Cagliari’s gaze, now smoldering with barely suppressed anger, pinned them in place.

Mrs. Smith continued to plead, her voice frantic. Tyra’s gaze flickered back to Mr. Cagliari. The deep maroon of his suit was rich and impeccably tailored, a stark contrast to the drab surroundings. A chilling realization dawned on her: this had to be the CEO. This wouldn't be swept under the rug.

Mr. Cagliari gave a curt nod to a man standing slightly behind him, who immediately stepped forward.

“Mrs. Smith, you will provide a full report at the disciplinary board meeting later today. The same applies to the employees involved in this incident. Mr. Cagliari himself will be presiding over the meeting.” His tone left no room for argument. The atmosphere in the room turned somber.

Mr. Cagliari turned to leave, pausing briefly in front of Ashleigh. She instinctively lowered her gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched his lips before he continued out of the supply room, his entourage following.

As soon as they were gone, Ashleigh turned and fled, ignoring Mrs. Smith’s calls. She grabbed her bag from the break room and hurried out of the building.

High in his office, Mr. Cagliari watched her leave, a small, solitary figure walking away from the imposing building.

He sensed his secretary’s presence. “Speak,” he said without turning from the window.

“Ashleigh Hartman. Twenty-two years old. Raised in an orphanage. No information on her parents, but she was recently taken in by her aunt, who, as you know, works here.”

His secretary handed him a tablet. Mr. Cagliari scrolled through the information, his eyes lingering on the headshot.

A faint sense of recognition, fleeting and unidentifiable, stirred within him. He dismissed it, handing back the tablet.

“Find out more about this girl.” He moved to his desk, his secretary trailing behind.

Later, as Mr. Turner announced the commencement of the disciplinary board meeting, Mr. Cagliari rose, the image of Ashleigh’s frightened yet relieved face when he’d entered the supply room still vivid in his mind.

**********************

At the meeting, Tyra and her accomplices spun a web of lies, attempting to paint Ashleigh as the instigator. But the security footage painted a different picture. Mr. Cagliari’s anger, simmering beneath the surface, finally erupted.

He delivered his verdict with cold finality: Tyra and her friends along with Mr. Clark were to be terminated from their positions and escorted from the premises immediately. Mrs. Smith was placed on probation. Ashleigh Hartman would be compensated for the distress and potential damages.

Meanwhile, Ashleigh unlocked the door to the small apartment she shared with her aunt. It was modest but comfortable. She walked straight to her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down her face.

The humiliation, the fear, the precariousness of her situation – it all crashed down on her. Losing this job, the one she had fought so hard to get, felt like a crushing blow.

A soft knock on her door broke through her sobs. She opened it to find her aunt, Mrs. Smith, her face etched with concern.

“My dear, why didn’t you tell me what those girls were doing?” Mrs. Smith asked, sitting beside her on the bed.

“I… I didn’t think it would get this bad. I just tried to ignore them, do what they wanted,” Ashleigh whispered.

Mrs. Smith sighed. “Foolish girl. You must tell me these things. To find out like this… in front of Mr. Cagliari…”

“That man… he was the CEO?” Ashleigh’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, he was touring the supply areas today. But that’s not important now. Are you alright?”

“Will I lose my job, Auntie?” Ashleigh’s voice was filled with panic. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I do.”

“No, my sweet girl, you won’t. The disciplinary meeting just finished. Mr. Cagliari insisted you be compensated. And those awful girls… they’ve been fired.”

Relief flooded Ashleigh, and fresh tears, this time of gratitude, spilled down her cheeks. “What about you, Auntie? Was there any punishment?”

Mrs. Smith waved a dismissive hand, but under Ashleigh’s persistent questioning, she admitted she was on probation.

“It’s my fault,” Ashleigh choked out. “If I hadn’t helped you that day, Tyra wouldn’t have…”

“Hush, child. It’s alright. I should have been more aware of what you were going through.” Mrs. Smith held her close.

Her heart ached for Ashleigh, for the years spent in the orphanage, for the endless hours she worked now. She longed to give her more, to send her to college, but her own finances were stretched thin. All she could offer was her love and support, a fragile shield against a world that hadn’t been kind.

My dream girl, she thought, the nickname a bittersweet reminder of the brighter future she envisioned for Ashleigh, a future that felt so distant now. This nightmare has to end.

“All this worrying must have made you hungry,” Mrs. Smith said, gently cupping Ashleigh’s face. “Let’s find something to eat.”

Ashleigh nodded, and they left the small room, hand in hand, a silent understanding passing between them. The day had been long, and as they ate their simple meal, their thoughts remained heavy with the day’s events and the uncertain future.

Later, they retreated to their separate rooms, each hoping for a calmer tomorrow.