CHAPTER 3: Tensions Rise
Ann arrived early. Not just ten minutes early kind of early, but the kind of early that gave her time to gather herself, open the blinds, and take a quiet moment before the rest of the office filled with the familiar hum of phones, printers, and pressured breath.
She had stayed late the night before, finishing the Cardiff presentation long after most people had gone home. A surprise handoff, someone else's missed deadline turned into her chance. She didn't expect recognition. She only hoped to avoid criticism.
But the email came anyway. Direct from the Cardiff team. Short, polite, and glowing.
They called her pitch deck "insightful, clean, and emotionally intelligent." Words no one usually associated with Knight Holdings.
By ten that morning, three people had casually dropped by her desk, some to ask questions, some to offer praise that felt half-genuine, half-curious. Even Jordan, who rarely looked up from his own ambition, smirked as he passed her.
"Look at you, Smith. Winning hearts and inboxes." She smiled, brushing it off. "It was just a deck." "Yeah, and I'm just a unicorn," he said, raising a brow. "They copied Knight, you know." Her stomach fluttered. She hadn't checked. She did now. There it was. His name in the CC line. Richard Knight.
The air in the office changed just before noon. It always did, the moment Richard stepped out of his office. As if the oxygen shifted to accommodate him. People straightened, screens snapped into place, conversations ended mid-word.
Today was no different. He walked through the workspace with his usual quiet power, cutting a sharp figure in dark blue, his stride precise. Eyes forward until they weren't. His gaze flicked briefly to her. No smile. No nod. But he looked. Ann didn't dare let herself overthink it. Instead, she kept her head down and returned to the project list.
But shortly after lunch, a message appeared on her screen:
"My office. 2PM. Bring the Cardiff file. RK"
Her chest tightened. She knocked on his door at 1:59.
"Come in."
The room was sleek and still. No music, no noise, only the quiet tension that lived in the walls and in the man behind the desk.
He didn't look up at first. He was reading something, pen tapping lightly against his notes. Ann stood just inside the door, documents in hand, calm mask in place.
Finally, he glanced up.
"You've had an impressive morning," he said, voice cool as ever. "People are talking." Ann chose her words carefully. "I'm glad the Cardiff team liked the deck."
"You deviated from the template."
"I adjusted it to suit the audience."
He rose from his chair, slow and deliberate, and moved around to face her directly. His presence was… dense. Like gravity wrapped in expensive tailoring. "You made a decision without consulting your supervisor." "It was a calculated decision," she said, keeping her voice steady. "Based on the client's preferences."
He studied her face. "You researched him?"
"Yes. His interviews. Past presentations. He favors narratives. I structured the deck to reflect that."
His brow lifted just slightly, but he said nothing.
Ann pressed on. "It worked."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
His tone sharpened. "The point is that I don't like surprises, Miss Smith. Even successful ones." She met his gaze, unblinking. "I wasn't trying to impress you. I was trying to do the job well."
For a long beat, the room was silent.
Then Richard stepped back, folding his arms. "You have potential. But don't confuse talent with immunity." Ann's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Understood."
"You can go."
She turned to leave.
Then paused.
"Do you always respond to good work with threats?" He said nothing. Just watched her, expression unreadable. She didn't wait for an answer. Just walked out, her heart pounding.
It was nearly 9PM when Ann realized she was still at her desk. Everyone else had gone hours ago. The floor was quiet, lights dimmed. She had been so absorbed in decrypting another project file sent directly by Richard with the word urgent that she'd barely noticed the time.
The elevator chimed. She looked up, startled. Richard stepped out, holding two small paper bags. He didn't speak as he walked over to her desk and placed one of the bags in front of her.
"Thai. Medium spice." She blinked. "What?" "I noticed you skipped dinner." Her mind scrambled to catch up. "You brought me food?" "I brought food," he said evenly. "You happen to be the only other person still here." He sat at the small round table near the window and opened his own container. As if this were normal. As if they did this often. Tentatively, Ann opened the bag. The smell was comforting. Pad Thai. Still warm. She glanced at him."Thank you." He didn't respond.
They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the distant city outside and the occasional clink of plastic forks. "I was curious," he said finally, not looking up. "Why marketing?" The question caught her off guard. Not just because it was personal, but because it was unexpected. "I like patterns," she said. "But I like people more. Marketing is where both meet." He nodded once, as if filing away the answer.
"And after this internship?"
"I haven't decided."
"You want to stay?"
"I want to grow," she said. "Wherever that takes me."
He looked at her then, really looked eyes darker than usual, unreadable. "You're not like the others." She hesitated. "Is that a compliment?" "It's an observation."
She set down her fork, the food suddenly forgotten. "Why do you keep giving me more work, Mr. Knight?"
"Because you haven't failed yet."
"That's not exactly encouragement."
"I don't do encouragement."
She smiled slightly. "That, I noticed."
He leaned back, watching her.
"You challenge me."
Her breath caught.
"Not many people do," he added. "Not without consequences."
"And what are mine?"
He didn't answer. Just stood and cleared his tray. "You're smart. Be careful not to burn too fast." And then he was gone.
Ann sat there for a long moment, food untouched, heart still beating fast. For the first time since stepping into this company, she felt something more than fear or pressure. She felt the shift.
A slow current pulling them toward something neither of them could name.
Something dangerous.
Something real.