Chapter 2- KAEL SANDERS

"Mr. Sanders... Mr. Sanders..."

I lifted my eyes to the man sitting across from me.

He'd been talking for the last ten minutes, repeating the same numbers in different ways, hoping one of them would impress me.

He let out a nervous laugh and adjusted his tie.

"I'm sorry... maybe I wasn't clear."

"I can go over it again if you'd like.”

Of course you would.

I leaned back and watched him.

His fingers moved nervously against the leather file in his lap. His eyes moved between me and the expensive, minimalist design of my office, as if the walls themselves could give him approval.

He wanted my approval.

I wasn't interested in giving it.

He was the type of man who would worship me if I gave him the chance.

“I’ll get back to you,” I said flatly, closing the file in front of me with a deliberate snap and waving my hand dismissively.

Relief flooded his face instantly, lifting the tension from his shoulders.

“Oh sure, absolutely! We look forward to hearing from you,” he said eagerly, rising from his seat.

He extended his hand for a handshake, a hopeful smile on his face.

I looked at his hand, then back at him.

Silence settled between us.

A few seconds passed. His smile slowly faded. His fingers twitched before he pulled his hand back and slipped it into his pocket, pretending the moment never happened.

Smart choice.

“You may leave,” I said. “My assistant will see you out.”

“Of course. Thank you for your time, sir.”

He turned quickly and left, moving faster than necessary.

The heavy door clicked shut behind him, and silence returned to my office.

I exhaled slowly and looked at the piles of documents scattered across my desk.

I leaned back, my thoughts returning to the problems buried within Kael Industries.

From the outside, Kael Industries looked untouchable.

But inside, things were different. We were running in circles, moving constantly, yet getting nowhere.

The system was failing. Over the past few weeks, critical data files had been altered, master registries changed, and financial records erased.

My security protocols were some of the best in the industry. This wasn't an external attack. It was an inside job.

There were rotten eggs hidden within my own workforce, people calculating enough to sabotage the company from the inside.

They knew the rules. They knew the weaknesses. And they used the system itself to cover their tracks.

The sharp buzz of the phone broke the silence.

I looked at my desk phone. The caller ID showed the internal line for Human Resources.

I picked up the phone and placed it against my ear.

"Speak.”

"Mr. Sanders, I'm calling to confirm that the directive has been carried out," the HR director said, his voice tense.

"The employment offer was sent directly to the candidate's email as requested. She responded less than two minutes ago.”

"And?”

"She accepted, sir. She starts Tuesday morning at nine.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"But Mr. Sanders... if I may speak freely, the entire department is confused by this decision. We reviewed her records after receiving the file.”

"You don't need to understand my decisions. You just need to carry them out.”

"Of course, sir, but her history is... complicated, to say the least," the director continued, his concern making him push further.

"Three resignations and terminations in five months. She was fired from her last job just hours ago for insubordination and refusing to follow her department head's orders. She has a difficult record, Mr. Sanders. Bringing someone like her into the company is a risk.”

"That will be all.”

I said, cutting him off before he could continue.

I placed the phone back on the receiver, ending the conversation.

A small smile touched my lips.

Traditional HR saw anyone who challenged authority as a problem. They wanted obedience. But obedience didn't uncover wolves.

The people hiding in my logistics and archive divisions were comfortable because they expected everyone around them to obey.

They thought they controlled everything.

I opened the restricted file on my tablet, bringing up her profile once again.

Quincy Hale.

I studied her photograph. Sharp cheekbones, a stubborn set to her jaw.

But her eyes were what caught my attention, sharp amber eyes that carried a confidence I couldn't ignore.

Even through a screen, she didn't look like someone who could be intimidated, controlled, or bought.

And right now, a reckless, defiant wildcard was exactly what I needed inside that nest of vipers.

I adjusted my cufflinks and kept my eyes on the amber stare staring back from the screen.

“Let’s see how far you're willing to go, Miss Hale.”

“And let's see how useful that fire of yours really is.”