Chapter 7
The whole company was buzzing with gossip about Lorraine being called up to the CEO's office.
Everyone assumed she got questioned by the boss, so when she showed up on the 10th floor cafeteria for lunch, all the whispering and sideways glances only made the rumor about her stealing a design draft spread faster.
But Lorraine didn't seem bothered.
Calm as ever, she took a bite of her lunch and casually told the man across from her, "Director Grant, I'm thinking of taking a few days off starting the day after tomorrow."
Lucas looked at her, noticing the tired look on her face. Considering all that had happened today, he could only nod in agreement.
Celeste, who was sitting nearby, quickly chimed in, "Yeah, take a break. Once the surveillance gets fixed, everything will come to light."
"I'm not taking time off because of that," Lorraine said, her tone steady. "I'll get to the bottom of this before I leave. I won't cause trouble for the company. I'm just exhausted and need a breather."
She didn't bother explaining more. Instead, She simply pulled out her phone and sent Tristan a $50 transfer on Venmo with a note: [For breakfast.]
Upstairs in a meeting, Tristan heard the soft ping of a notification.
While the atmosphere remained stiff, others in the room glanced around nervously, thinking someone had forgotten to mute their phone. But Tristan calmly opened Venmo.
Seeing the transfer, he chuckled. Just like that - no warning, no change in expression, just a quiet laugh.
Heads turned. This... was the first time anyone had seen their cold, stern CEO crack even half a smile.
Standing next to him, Alexander instantly understood what had just happened.
"Meeting's over. Let's pick this up in the afternoon."
"HR's been saying the CEO is hiring a secretary," Celeste leaned in and whispered to Lorraine after lunch, eyeing someone from HR walking past. "And he specifically asked for a woman."
Then, with a grin, she added, "You think Mr. Iceberg's finally melting?"
Hah - melting?
This guy just accepted a transfer for fifty bucks like it was nothing. You'd need a blowtorch, and even then, it'd probably bounce off.
Lorraine didn't argue the point. She wasn't in the mood to get into it.
After parting ways with Celeste, Lorraine headed to the parking garage. She slid into her car, closed the door, and tapped Dylan's name on her screen.
He'd asked her out to a movie a week ago—planned it days in advance, like it still meant something. She never showed. What made it better was that Samantha had. The two of them, caught off guard, had apparently run into each other outside the theater and spent the night awkwardly pretending they were just old friends.
Lorraine, of course, never showed. And Samantha—never one to waste a good opportunity—had taken her absence as the perfect excuse to mock Dylan for getting stood up. How sweet.
Dylan still bought her excuse about car trouble, and when she asked for help getting the car to a repair shop, he jumped at the chance.
Typical. Give guilt a place to land, and men like him cling to it like a lifeline.
Lorraine reached into the glove compartment, adjusted the tiny pinhole camera with practiced fingers, then sat back and waited.
Then her mind wandered back to that morning - to all the faces she saw watching her.
Most of the people ranting didn't stand out. It was all just noise.
But one person in the crowd really stuck with her. A smirk on her lips, eyes practically glowing with amusement-she looked like she was watching a show.
Isabelle Prescott. Daughter of the transport director and a key player in the design department. She was popular at work. Pretty girl, slick with money, always gifting clever little things to win people over.
Lorraine didn't want to jump to any conclusions yet - but her gut had its suspicions.
