All Chapters of The Turned Table: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“Which one?” Stephen said, already halfway out the door. “Office or apartment. Pick fast.”“Apartment.” I yanked on my coat before I’d even finished the word. The word just came out by instinct before I realised. “The background noise—didn’t sound like an office. No elevator, no carpet muffling everything. It was too sharp, too close, like he was home.”“You’re sure?”“No.” I jerked open the door. “But I’m not standing here arguing about it.”Stephen didn’t argue. A few seconds later, we were racing down the stairs and into his car. Only then did I realize I’d left my own place unlocked. I didn’t care. Stephen pulled out of the lot, tires screeched into the street across the rain-slicked pavement. it sounded like my pulse.I called Rufus again. Straight to voicemail it didn't even ring. Which meant his phone was dead, off, or worse— . I refused to finish that thought .“Call someone who has his building’s number,” Stephen said, blowing through a red light.I called Dana. She answered

The car had been behind me for as long as I could remember. But I was beginning to get disturbed, looking back every now and then. I'd told myself it was nothing the first time I noticed it. Maybe a coincidence of traffic, two cars heading the same direction could take the same route. I told myself the same thing the second time, just a coincidence, right? But the street I turned onto was empty. There was no reason anyone else should be here. By the third time, near an old loading dock with the metal gate down for the night, I didn’t bother lying to myself anymore. At that point, every version of the truth meant someone was actually following me. I ran back to my car, not sure of what to do. What if it was Priscilla's alliance coming after me?. I grabbed my phone almost dialing Stephen's number but I hesitated. I held the wheel but my palms were sweaty,they almost slipped off. My heart was beating rapidly, I could feel it everywhere in my body. The wipers going left-right-left-rig

I couldn't contain the information I just heard. At this point, I felt like the world was crumbling. The room went very quiet. There was a rising feeling in my chest, more of anger and tiredness. I was tired of being the reason bad things happened to my loved ones. I finally spoke when I had the courage to. "Warning me of what?.I already know someone's watching and they don't want me digging. What exactly do they want that I don't know already?." Rufus's voice had gone low and careful. "Watching you is one thing. Breaking into my apartment is another. That's them telling you they can get to anyone you care about. Not just threaten from a distance. Actually reach them.". I felt the weight of everything settling in my chest. The words of Priscilla's threat replayed in my head. I don't want anything happening to Julian, my sister and Rufus. Whatever happened to Stephen will be considered a couple's affair. It was only then that I actually looked at Rufus. The bruise darkening al

The knock pulled me out of sleep before I remembered where I was.For a few seconds the room made no sense around me, unfamiliar curtains. The sunlight slipped through the windows. A ceiling that wasn't mine, the memories of the last night rushing back in pieces. Rufus's voice in the dark. His hand against my back. The weight of his words still ringing in my head. The knock came again. "It's Farrah, love. Renata called."I was out of bed and reaching for my clothes before she'd even finished the sentence, my body moving faster than my mind had caught up to. "Julian's fine," she said quickly through the door, reading the panic in my silence . "He's fine, he's just been asking for you all morning. Hasn't slept well, from what Renata could tell."I dressed faster than I'd dressed for anything in longer than I could remember, pulling on yesterday's clothes because they were the only ones within reach, and left without waiting for coffee or explanation, my whole body pointed toward one

Monday came faster and was grateful. Work was easier than feelings. Contracts had rules but emotions were messy and unpredictable. I kept repeating that to myself as I walked into the office, coffee in hand, portfolio tucked under my arm. For the first time in three days, I didn’t feel completely off-balance. Then Dana caught up to me and squeezed my arm. “Aurelia’s moving to final review next week. You should be proud of this one, Bee.” I let myself believe it for exactly forty minutes. Then my laptop pinged while I was staring at lighting specs for the third time. An email from the Aurelia's procurement office. The email’s subject line looked dull and official, and I opened it without a second thought. Voss Industries' bid for the Aurelia Tower interior design contract has been withdrawn. No explanation attached, no context, just a hard stop. I read it again. And again. Checked the sender’s address, scrolled back to our original bid records—like if I looked hard enough,