The executive office was an elegant composition of power and restraint. Sunlight spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows, soft gleams on the polished marble floors. Dark wood panels lined the walls, and at the center stood a glass-and-metal desk, sleek, severe, immaculate. A navy velvet couch sat beside a modern gold-accented coffee table, and on the wall hung abstract art that whispered quiet opulence.
Daniel spotted his mother seated by the window, a glass of wine resting on the side table as her fingers glided over her phone. His father walked to her, kissed her temple, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before sitting beside her.
"How did it go?" she asked, nodding toward their son.
Mr. Gundi smiled, his hand lingering in hers. "Well enough. The introduction was smooth."
Daniel crossed to the wine bar without a word, pouring himself champagne and drinking deeply. "They were uncomfortable," he muttered.
His mother sighed as his father stood and approached him.
"You'll need to get used to them. They'll be in your orbit constantly once you're appointed Executive Director," Mr. Gundi said, his voice calm but resolute.
Daniel didn't respond.
After a pause, Mr. Gundi returned to his wife. "Diana and I have something to attend to," he said, fingers threading through hers again. She smiled up at him with a fondness that looked untouched by time.
Daniel's gaze flicked toward them, incredulous. "Wait—you two still sleep together?"
A beat of silence. Then laughter.
Mrs. Gundi shook her head, amused. "We're married, Daniel. We don't need permission."
Mr. Gundi grinned. "And when you get married, we'll extend you the same courtesy."
He helped her rise, carefully lifting her handbag. As they left, Daniel turned toward the desk, an imposing mahogany structure with silver-detailed drawers and an array of pristine, deliberate objects: a leather-bound notebook, a custom pen set, a glass globe paperweight. Everything in this room had a place.
Once alone, he sighed and pulled out his phone, dialing.
David answered on the third ring, groggy. "What?"
"What are you doing?" Daniel asked.
"Nothing. Watching a show. Why?"
"I'm at my father's company. It's too quiet here. Talk to me before I lose it."
David laughed. "Get a girlfriend. Or don't go across the city just to be bored."
"I'll be there in an hour," he added, before hanging up.
Moments later, the office phone rang. Daniel picked it up, listening as a staff member informed him that a document, long overdue, was being sent up. He told her to send the person in.
"Of course, sir," she replied.
A few moments passed before the door opened.
She entered in silence, the crisp rhythm of her heels punctuating the stillness. Her tailored white suit was pristine, structured blazer, high-waisted pencil skirt, and a sheer blouse with a subtle sheen. Her makeup was precise, her lips a bold red. She carried herself like someone trained in control.
Daniel looked up, recognition and confusion meeting in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Sandra smiled slightly. "I work here."
He frowned. "Since when?"
"Since before you started noticing," she replied, setting the files on his desk.
Sandra's family had carved her place in the company through influence, but she had kept it through merit. Long nights. Unseen hours. A room turned into a second office. She had organized files the board forgot existed. Her ambition was not performative, it was survival. And yet, when she saw Daniel leave the elevator earlier that day, her composure slipped. She remembered too well how he'd once dismissed her, how he'd looked at her with disdain rather than familiarity.
Still, she had hoped this meeting might be different.
"Sire," he corrected her, flatly.
Sandra blinked.
"You'll address me properly," he said coldly. "I'm your boss now."
He waved her away. "Just leave."
Her expression crumpled, but she turned without protest. Her heels clicked softer this time, as if her spirit dulled them. She reached the door, hand on the knob, when his voice stopped her.
"I can't wait to fire you once I'm in charge."
She turned. Her eyes searched his. She found nothing. No remorse. No explanation. Just distance.
Then she left.
The door hadn't fully closed before the elevator opened again. David stepped in wearing a loose cashmere hoodie and designer joggers, his sneakers immaculate and glinting gold at the laces.
"You look good," Daniel muttered.
David grinned. "I always do."
Daniel smirked, the tension lifting slightly. David strolled to the wine bar, selected a bottle of vintage red, poured a glass, and sipped slowly.
"What time are you leaving?" he asked, watching Daniel closely.
"Two," Daniel replied, rubbing his face. "Got an email from my dad. Website materials. Haven't even opened the attachment."
David nodded. "Work never ends."
Daniel hesitated. "Miranda hasn't called."
David raised a brow. "So it's not the workload, it's Miranda."
Daniel leaned back, closing his eyes. "Work can wait."
David arched a brow. "Want me to send for her? I've got pull."
"No," Daniel said, eyes still closed. "She'll come. They always do."
David chuckled and refilled his glass. But he noticed something in Daniel, something distracted, something unresolved.
Daniel opened his eyes. "I want her again."
David nearly choked on his wine. "Just like that?"
Daniel stared at the ceiling. "You think I don't love her?"
David tilted his head. "I think you don't know what you feel. Which makes it worse."
Daniel didn't respond. The silence returned. Outside, the city gleamed, steel, light, and legacy waiting to be claimed.
——
Rachael parked in the airport lot and turned off the engine. The silence in the car was almost soothing. She had already called her mother, asking her to collect the vehicle later after finishing up at the shopping mall she managed. No one in her family had expected this. Over dinner, when she'd announced she was going back to the city she had only just left, they'd fallen silent. Her return home had felt final to them. Now, her decision to leave again, so soon, had left them disheartened.
Still, they hugged her tightly, reminded her they were only a phone call away, and promised to visit soon. She was grateful for their support, but it didn't ease the pressure pressing down on her chest.
That morning, she had packed in quiet heartbreak. Another argument with Samuel still echoed in her mind. It had been the last straw. She had tried everything to fix what was broken, but no matter how hard she tried, he refused to meet her halfway.
She had gone to his house again. Hoping. Pleading. But he met her at the gate, dressed immaculately, looking just as effortless and unreachable as ever. Her heart had skipped at the sight of him, familiar and cruel.
He didn't even let her speak.
"Why are you here again?" he snapped, rolling his eyes.
She opened her mouth, words trembling on her tongue, but he cut her off before they formed.
"Leave me alone. I don't like you. I don't want to see you. I can't imagine why you can't get that through your head. Just go."