CHAPTER FIVE - TANYA

I walked into the executive wing this morning, still drained from Meghan’s ordeal last night. Not physically — emotionally. Her cracked voice, the bruise on her cheek, the way she shook… it haunted me through the night.

I finished the other two offices, the lounge, and the conference room before heading into Mr. Asshole’s office, only to find papers scattered all over his desk.

“And this man is supposed to be organized?” I muttered. Organized, my foot.

I started cleaning the mess. Numbers always grab my attention, so I skimmed a page. Then another. And then I started lining the sheets up. Something was off.

“Talk to me,” I whispered to the figures.

Then I saw it — the starting balances had been carefully manipulated.

“What,” a cold voice snapped behind me, “the fuck do you think you are doing?”

I jolted so hard the papers flew. Damien Lockewood stood in the doorway looking ready to pounce.

“I… clean… the paper…” I stuttered. Beautiful. Absolutely stunning performance.

“Get out,” he said icily.

I scurried out, equal parts embarrassed and annoyed. Why was I always a disaster around this man? At the door, I stopped. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Technically.

Before I chickened out, I spun around and marched right back in.

“Just because you’re the CEO doesn’t mean you can treat people like dirt,” I said, heart punching my ribs.

His jaw ticked. “Excuse me?”

“And if you were as good as everyone says, you’d already know the starting figures were manipulated. It took a cleaner to see it. You’re welcome.”

I turned and walked out before he could speak.

By the time I reached the janitors’ closet, the adrenaline faded, and reality smacked me. I closed the door behind me.

“What the hell did I just do?” I whispered, sliding down the wall. “I’m so fired.”

But the exhaustion creeping into my bones had nothing to do with Damien. My mind slipped back to last night.

FLASHBACK — LAST NIGHT

I had barely stepped into my apartment when I saw her. “Oh my God, Meghan!”

I dropped to my knees. She burst into tears and collapsed into my arms.

“He said… he said I made him angry,” she sobbed. “He said it was my fault.”

My stomach twisted. “He hit you. That’s not your fault.”

“He said he didn’t mean to. He said he loves me…”

I held her tighter. “You’re staying here. And you’re not going back.”

She cried until she fell asleep. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling with fury burning under my skin.

I promised myself: he was never touching her again. Not if I could help it.

BACK TO PRESENT

A sharp knock snapped me out of the memory. My stomach plummeted.

Mrs. Greyson stood there — Damien’s real-life ice sculpture of an assistant.

“Miss Reed,” she said. “Mr. Lockewood requires your presence.”

Requires. Oh perfect. I was being summoned to my execution.

I followed her, hands sweating, stomach praying for death. The door was cracked open.

Damien stood behind his desk, papers spread like crime evidence. He didn’t look up.

“Close the door, Tanya.”

My heart dropped. I obeyed.

He finally looked at me, dark and unreadable. “Explain.”

Not what happened. Not why. Just — Explain.

“I was cleaning,” I said, “the papers were everywhere, and I noticed the numbers were suspicious.”

“You read confidential financial documents.”

“You left them out like a buffet,” I shot back. “I have eyes.”

His jaw ticked. Abort, Tanya. But my mouth was suicidal today.

“And if your staff weren’t so scared of you, maybe they’d tell you things instead of pretending everything is perfect.”

He inhaled sharply — irritation level: advanced.

“Come here.”

Not a request.

My legs moved on their own. He held up a sheet. “You said the starting figures were manipulated. Show me.”

“You… want me to?”

“No, I want you to do an interpretive dance. Yes, show me.”

Smartass.

I leaned over the desk. “Here. The initial balances don’t match the logs. Someone bumped this up so it looks natural.”

He flipped the page. “And this one?”

“The decimals don’t align with system calculations. Manual adjustments.”

He stared at me like I’d sprouted horns. “How did you see that?”

I shrugged. “Numbers and I get along.”

He studied me for a long moment. “Sit.”

I blinked. “Sorry?”

“You look like you haven’t slept. Sit. You’ll be useless to me if you faint.”

Ah. There he was. My favorite harbinger of early death.

I sat.

“Something happened,” he said quietly.

“No.”

“Don’t lie. Your eyes are swollen.”

I stiffened but didn’t answer.

He let it go. “Regardless, you shouldn’t have touched these documents.”

“Then don’t leave them lying around.”

Another jaw tick. Score one for Tanya.

He leaned forward, hands on the desk. “What you uncovered could cost someone their job. Or their freedom.”

I swallowed. “So someone was cooking the books.”

His silence was confirmation.

“Don’t mention this to anyone,” he said. “Not a word.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

A beat.

“You’re staying until we finish reviewing these.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m a cleaner.”

“Not today.”

“I can’t just—”

“I’ll call HR. They’ll adjust your hours.”

I stared. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“If I were kidnapping you,” he said quietly, “you’d know.”

My internal organs blushed. Great.

He pointed at the pages. “Sit. Read. Explain.”

I sighed and pulled my chair closer. “Fine. But I’m only doing this because sloppy math offends me.”

His lips twitched — probably a muscle spasm pretending to be a smile.

We worked through the pages together. After thirty minutes, he leaned back.

“You were right.”

I preened. “Of course I was.”

He gave me that sharp, assessing look again. “You’re wasted as a cleaner.”

My heart stuttered.

Before I could respond, he added, “Don’t worry. You’re not fired.”

Relief hit—

“Not yet.”

Wow. Inspirational.

He gathered the papers. “Security will escort you out. You’re done for today.”

I frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. But someone might have.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Me. Alone. With confidential documents.

“Do you think someone saw me?” I whispered.

His eyes darkened. “I think you should be careful.”

“Careful of what?”

He walked to the door, then paused.

“Tanya.”

“Yes?”

“Good job.”

He shut the door.