Chapter 6 When You Left—Was That Also For Money?

Celeste's POV

I knew Dmitri must have seen.

His gaze swept across the papers on the floor, across Vivian, across me crouched there.

Then it simply passed over.

The way you look at a table, a chair.

He didn't stop, didn't speak, just walked straight on. I lowered my head and went back to gathering the papers, my fingers a little stiff.

It's fine.

I told myself this was exactly right.

We weren't close. He had no reason to help me. And I didn't need anyone's help.

My chest just felt a bit tight, that's all.

Probably from crouching too long. Lack of oxygen.

Vivian finally moved her foot aside, gave a small huff, and left.

I stuffed the last sheet into the folder and stood up. My legs had gone numb.

It's fine.

It wasn't the first time someone had put their foot on me.

For the next few days, I didn't see Vivian at the office again.

During that stretch, Julian drove me home every day after work, since it was on his way.

I turned him down twice. He said he wasn't comfortable letting me go alone. The third time I stopped pushing back, because I was honestly too tired.

On the fourth morning, the moment I walked into the office, Dmitri looked up.

"Who took you home last night?"

"That has nothing to do with my report."

"Your boss?"

"...Yes."

"Every day?"

"It's on his way."

"Where does he live?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know, and you still get in his car?"

His pen stopped on the page. His voice was flat.

"What is your relationship with him?"

"Supervisor and subordinate."

"The way he looks at you says otherwise."

"If that's what he thinks, that's his business. To me he's just my boss."

"Celeste." He raised his eyes. "I'm not blind."

My temper flared all at once. "Dmitri, who drives me home after work is not something I need to report to you."

"Then report today's project progress."

He lowered his head again.

I stood there, the retort jammed in my chest, unable to get out.

I really didn't understand him.

One moment he treated me like a stranger, looking right past me while I was under someone's foot—the next he was policing whose car I rode in.

I cursed him out in my head all day.

At first I didn't think anything of the Vivian business.

Then on Friday, I was filling my cup at the break room when I heard two women from F&G talking in low voices.

"Did you hear? Vivian got fired."

"No way."

"It's true. Her supervisor tore into her in front of the whole floor, said she was unprofessional, said she was damaging the company's image. Security dragged her out of the building."

"What did she do?"

"No idea. Must have crossed the wrong person a few days back."

I stood there holding my cup. Water overflowed and ran over the back of my hand, scalding me.

I thought of the look he'd given me when the elevator doors opened that day.

No pause, no emotion.

No. It couldn't be.

He hadn't done anything. Not a thing.

I poured the water out and told myself: coincidence.

F&G was huge. Vivian could easily have stirred up more than one kind of trouble.

But my heart skipped a beat anyway.

On the fifth day, I walked into the briefing right on time.

He was still bent over his documents.

I finished my report and waited for his questions.

This time, he didn't ask any.

"Get out."

I blinked. "...What?"

"There's nothing else today."

He didn't look up.

I stood there, mouth opening and closing. I almost asked whether he had anything to do with what happened to Vivian.

The words reached my lips, and I swallowed them back down.

And if I asked—then what?

If he said yes, was I supposed to thank him? If he said no, I'd only be more confused.

"Something else?" he asked.

"...No."

I turned, my hand just touching the doorknob.

"You've lost weight."

I froze.

"I eat a lot, and well, every day. There's no way I've lost weight."

"Liar."

His voice was so low I almost thought I'd imagined it.

I didn't turn around.

"Dmitri," I said. "We're not close."

Nothing behind me. Not a sound.

I pulled the door open and walked out.

The hallway was quiet. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes for a moment.

He'd noticed I'd lost weight.

I hadn't even noticed myself.

By the time I left work, it was fully dark. I had just stepped out of the F&G building when my phone rang.

The hospital.

I answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, family member of Eleanor," the nurse said brightly. "Just letting you know that Eleanor's medication fees for this month have been paid in full."

My feet stopped. "...What?"

"It's already been paid. You don't need to worry about it anymore."

"Who paid it?"

"The payment system shows the payer is—" the nurse paused. "Dmitri."

I stood at the edge of the road, traffic streaming past in front of me.

The voice on the other end kept talking. I couldn't hear a single word.

I gripped the phone tight.

I didn't sleep all night.

Lying in bed, I turned the same question over and over.

Why had he paid?

Pity? Charity? Or did he want me to owe him?

Whichever it was, I couldn't stand it.

I'd rather he cursed me out, rather he made my life hell. Anything but this.

Because this way, I'd forget whether I was supposed to hate him or fear him.

First thing in the morning, before nine, I charged straight into F&G.

In the elevator I called the hospital over and over.

"Hello, I'd like to apply to refund that medication payment."

"Sorry, those funds have already been used to purchase this month's medication. A refund isn't possible."

"Then can I pay it myself and have him take the money back?"

"That would require the original payer to submit an application."

I hung up.

Shit.

At his office door, Theo stood up to stop me.

"Miss Celeste, the boss is in a meeting—"

I didn't let him finish. I pushed the door open.

Dmitri was in there alone, on a video call—an international conference.

When he saw me walk in, he wrapped up the meeting quickly and stood, a document in his hand, and looked up at me.

He didn't seem surprised in the least.

"Something you need?"

"You paid my mother's medical bills."

"Mm."

"Why?"

"Aren't you short on money?"

He tossed the document onto the desk, his tone as light as if he were discussing the weather.

"I don't need you to pay," I said, stepping closer. "Call the hospital and get the money refunded. I'll pay it myself."

"It's already paid. What do you want me to do about it?"

"I can pay you back!"

He gave a short laugh.

"With what?"

"That's my problem."

"Your mother's medication—how much does it cost a month? Have you ever actually done the math?"

My fingers tightened.

"You investigated me?"

"Before you came to F&G, Theo looked into it," he said casually. "Every account of yours, I know."

"What gives you the right—"

"The right that the company you work for can only survive by partnering with F&G. The right that you have to give everything you've got just to keep your mother alive."

I was shaking with rage.

Everything I least wanted him to know—he knew all of it.

He leaned against the edge of the desk, looked me up and down once, then spoke slowly:

"Celeste, have you always been this short on money?"

I said nothing.

"Was it the same back then, too?"

His voice was calm.

"Back then, when you left—was that also for money?"