Chapter 2

By the time I returned with the coffee, it was almost eleven.

My knee had scraped raw, and my pants rubbed against it when I biked, causing a searing pain.

I went in and handed out the coffees one by one. Not a single person said thank you.

I returned to my desk, lifted my pant leg for a look, and saw a patch of blood seeping through.

I casually pulled a bandage from my bag, put it on, and lowered my head to continue organizing files.

At two in the afternoon, Mr. Davies assigned a task.

Organize five years of supplier interaction records into a table, due before closing today.

Skylar, the intern sitting opposite me, rolled her eyes. "That's too much work. One person can't finish it."

Mr. Davies glanced at me. "Kaitlyn, you do it."

There was no room for discussion.

I nodded, opened a folder, and started flipping through.

The data was messy, the timelines all wrong, and some files were scanned images, impossible to directly copy.

I bent my head, typing it in, word by word. Nothing played in my headphones; all I could hear were my colleagues chatting in the office, occasionally punctuated by talk of Christine being moved to the thirty-sixth floor.

"I heard Christine went to a meeting with Mr. Maximilian this afternoon."

"Really? How could an intern understand anything sitting in there?"

"Well, Mr. Maximilian is clearly interested in her. What she understands isn't important."

I didn't look up, continuing to input data.

Around six, the table was done. I sent it to Mr. Davies, who didn't reply.

I shut down my computer and walked out. When I reached the elevator, the doors opened, and Maximilian stood inside.

Two assistants were with him, holding files, heads bowed as they spoke to him.

My steps paused for half a second. Maximilian looked over too.

The moment our eyes met, I lowered my head, quickly stepped in, and stood in the farthest corner, my back to him.

The elevator was silent for a few seconds, then the assistants resumed their report.

Maximilian's voice resonated: "Mhm."

Low, concise, a tone I knew so well.

I stared at my reflection in the elevator doors, unmoving.

Seventeenth floor, thirteenth floor, ninth floor.

"Stop." Maximilian spoke.

An assistant pressed the stop button. My back tensed.

"What's your name?"

I didn't move until an assistant nudged me. Only then did I realize he was asking me.

I turned around, not looking at him. "Kaitlyn."

Maximilian was silent for two seconds. "Which department?"

"Operations, intern."

"Look up."

I pursed my lips, looked up, met his gaze for a second, then immediately looked down.

In that single second, I saw his expression clearly: he hadn't recognized me.

His eyes showed no ripple of emotion, just the ordinary gaze one would give a stranger.

It made sense. I had used Christine's face, Christine's voice, Christine's name.

He had never known what I looked like.

"Mhm." Maximilian retracted his gaze. "Continue."

The elevator resumed its descent. On the first floor, he walked out first.

I stood in the elevator for a few more seconds before stepping out.

When I reached the company entrance, the night breeze swept over me.

I stood there for a while, pushing down that heavy feeling in my chest, then got on my bike and rode back to the dorm.