"Sean, what happened? Are you limping?" The question came from Adenia, a middle-aged woman who also happened to be his director, as he shuffled into the bullpen.
He winced, not entirely faking it, and continued his slow march toward his desk. "Yes, ma'am. I, uh, took a bit of a spill yesterday—"
The door to the finance executive office swung open again, cutting him off. It was Renata, the division senior.
Her face instantly brightened at the sight of her favorite junior finally back after a day out with a doctor's note. "Oh my god, Sean! Welcome back! We missed you! What's wrong, handsome? You get into a fight?"
"He says he hurt his leg," Adenia supplied, her tone shifting from supervisory to slightly maternal.
Renata's expression melted into one of deep concern. "Oh, honey… how did you manage that?"
Sean mustered an awkward, lopsided smile. "Just took a tumble on the stairs. Wasn't watching my step. It's nothing serious, really. Already feels better." It was a well-practiced lie, smooth and utterly hollow.
Renata gave his shoulder a gentle, sympathetic pat. "Well, you let me know if you need anything fetched, okay? No need for you to be running around."
Sean ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "Really, it's fine. I wouldn't want to be a bother—"
"Good morning." A new voice, cut through their conversation from the doorway.
Sean turned to see a man in an impeccably tailored suit leaning against the doorframe, a broad, easy smile directed right at him. Sean blinked. He was certain he'd never seen this man in the office before.
"Good morning, sir," Adenia and Renata chimed in unison, their postures straightening almost imperceptibly.
Sean followed suit, offering a polite, closed-lipped smile and a slight dip of his head.
The man's gaze didn't waver. "And who's this? I don't believe we met yesterday." He pointed a casual but deliberate finger in Sean's direction.
"This is Sean, sir. He's a junior analyst in our division. He was out on sick leave yesterday," Adenia explained, her tone perfectly professional.
The man gave a short, acknowledging nod, but his eyes remained fixed on Sean. "My office. Now," he stated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. He turned on his heel and walked away without another glance.
Sean's brow furrowed in confusion. He waited until the man was out of earshot before leaning slightly toward Adenia. "Who… who was that?" he asked, his voice a mixture of innocence and dread.
"That's Mr. Arthen. Our new CEO. He started yesterday, while you were out," Adenia replied, her voice dropping to a hushed, meaningful tone.
Sean's blood ran cold. He swallowed hard, a silent torrent of expletives screaming through his mind. He forced his features into the bland, agreeable mask of a model corporate employee.
"Any idea why he's calling me in? You did get my doctor's note, right?" he asked, a thread of panic barely concealed beneath the polite inquiry.
Adenia nodded, holding up the official-looking form with its hospital letterhead. "It's right here. I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just wants to introduce himself. He did ask about you yesterday, you know."
"Oh. Right. Okay, then," Sean said, his voice lacking any conviction. "I'll… I'll head over there."
"You should," Adenia agreed.
Renata watched him push himself up from his chair, a visible wince betraying his discomfort. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk with you?" she offered, her concern evident.
Sean shook his head, mustering a weak but grateful smile. "No, no. It's fine. I've got it." He took a steadying breath and began the slow, painful walk toward the corner office that now felt miles away.
He froze just outside the door, its polished surface marked with a discreet plaque that read "Chief Executive Officer." Sean took a deep, steadying breath, quickly smoothing the front of his shirt. His hand rose in a short, sharp knock.
"Come in."
A practiced, professional smile instantly settled on his face as he turned the handle and stepped inside, his movements deliberately measured.
"Excuse me, sir. You wanted to see me?" he said, coming to a stop before the expansive desk.
He watched as the man opposite him set down his pen and leaned back in his leather chair, the motion fluid and assured.
"Have a seat."
Sean gave a small, tight nod and carefully lowered himself into the chair, every movement a conscious effort to hide his discomfort.
"So, how are you feeling? I heard you were out sick."
He blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the boss's intense gaze. A thin, polite smile touched his lips. "I'm much better, sir. Thank you."
"Oh? That's good to hear." The man's expression was unreadable. "Then why didn't you call me?"
Sean's brow furrowed for a fraction of a second before his professional mask snapped back into place. "Erm... I don't actually have your contact details, sir," he answered, his tone cautious.
He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, as he noticed a subtle shift in his boss's expression, a slight frown followed by a soft, low chuckle.
"Ah! Right. I keep forgetting. I'm the new guy here," the man said, prompting Sean to offer a hollow, polite laugh in return.
"And, I must apologize, what was your name again?"
"Sean, sir. Sean Allinea."
"S-Sean?" The man repeated the name slowly, as if tasting it.
"Yes, sir. Sean."
His boss gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "By the way, might I borrow your ID? I was finalizing the team's records yesterday. You're the only one I haven't had a chance to verify yet."
The man turned to open a desk drawer, leaving Sean confused and scrambling to understand the sudden request. He shifted slightly in his seat, his mind racing as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
His fingers fumbled through the worn leather of his wallet, a cold dread washing over him as the familiar slot for his ID came up empty. He blinked, his mind racing faster than his trembling hands as he began pulling out cards; credit, debit, a faded coffee shop stamp card, hoping against hope it had simply been misplaced.
His face drained of color. It was gone. Where the hell was it? Did he drop it at the club?
He was so consumed by the frantic spiral of his thoughts that he completely missed the man observing him from across the desk, a look of sheer amusement playing on his features as he watched Sean's silent panic attack.
"What's wrong, Sean? You look a little flustered," the boss asked, his voice a low, knowing purr as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them.
"I-I, sir, my ID—it's—" Sean stammered, his professional composure crumbling.
Then his eyes locked onto it. The small, plastic card was held casually between Victor's fingers, as if it had been there all along.
"H-How did you…?" The question choked off as the final, horrifying puzzle piece slammed into place. The inexplicable, overwhelming everything. "Victor?" he whispered, the name a breath of sheer, stunned disbelief.
Victor's smirk widened into a wicked, triumphant grin. "Oh? You know me. So tell me, Sean… why didn't you call?"
Oh, double shit! Sean's mind screamed, his entire world tilting on its axis right there in the boss's chair.