I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. He was here, right behind me.
FUCK
How had I not heard him enter?!
My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly turned to face him, the photograph still gripped between my fingers.
"Sir, I... I was just..." I stammered.
But Simon didn't look angry. Instead, he reached past me, his hand gently but firmly covering mine on the book. With a slight push, he slid the photograph back into place.
"I see you've been exploring," he said, his tone calm but with an underlying edge that made me shiver. "Find anything noteworthy?"
I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "No, sir. I just... the reports, I have them here..."
I thrust the stack of papers towards him like a peace offering.
Simon took the reports, his eyes never leaving mine. For a long moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable. I could feel a bead of sweat trickle down the back of my neck.
Finally, he smiled. But it wasn't a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that didn't quite reach the eyes, the kind that hid secrets behind a veneer of civility.
"Thank you, Norman," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I appreciate your... thoroughness."
I nodded jerkily, mumbling something incoherent as I backed towards the door. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to get as far away from him as possible.
But I forced myself to walk calmly, to not show any outward sign of the turmoil raging inside me. I couldn't let him know that I had seen the photo.
As I finally exited his office and heard the door click shut behind me, I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
My mind raced as I walked down the hallway, trying to process what I had just discovered. I had played right into his hands.
FUCK! I played right into his hands!!!
I knew I couldn't waste any time. As soon as I got home that evening, I pulled out my laptop and started updating my resume.
I spent hours hunched over the screen, scouring job posting sites and sending out applications to any position that seemed even remotely suitable. The coffee by my side grew cold as the night wore on, but I barely noticed. All that mattered was getting out, finding a new job before Simon realized what I knew.
By the time the first light of dawn started to peek through my curtains, my eyes were burning and my head was pounding. But I had done it. My resume was out there, floating in the digital ether. Now all I could do was wait and hope for a response.
When my alarm went off a couple of hours later, I groaned, my body aching from the tension and the lack of sleep. But I couldn't call in sick. I couldn't give Simon any reason to suspect that something was amiss.
The bastard knew where I lived.
So I dragged myself out of bed, showered, and dressed for work as usual. But as I approached the towering office building, my steps faltered.
I knew I couldn't waste any time. As soon as I got home that evening, I pulled out my laptop and started updating my resume.
I spent hours hunched over the screen, scouring job posting sites and sending out applications to any position that seemed even remotely suitable. The coffee by my side grew cold as the night wore on, but I barely noticed. All that mattered was getting out, finding a new job before Simon realized what I knew.
By the time the first light of dawn started to peek through my curtains, my eyes were burning and my head was pounding. But I had done it. My resume was out there, floating in the digital ether. Now all I could do was wait and hope for a response.
When my alarm went off a couple of hours later, I groaned, my body aching from the tension and the lack of sleep. But I couldn't call in sick. I couldn't give Simon any reason to suspect that something was amiss.
So I dragged myself out of bed, showered, and dressed for work as usual. But as I approached the towering office building, my steps faltered.
Somewhere inside, Simon was waiting. The thought of facing him, of pretending that everything was normal, made my stomach churn.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I could do this. I just had to be smart, to keep my head down and avoid him as much as possible.
As I entered the lobby, I found myself ducking behind pillars, peering around corners like some sort of corporate spy. Every shadow, every sudden movement made me jump.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator, not wanting to risk being trapped in a small space with him. By the time I reached the third floor, I was sweating and out of breath.
I hurried to my cubicle, keeping my eyes down, avoiding eye contact with my coworkers. I could feel their curious gazes on me, but I ignored them. I couldn't afford to get distracted, to let my guard down for even a moment.
I slid into my chair, booted up my computer, and tried to focus on my work. But it was impossible. Every sound, every footstep made me tense up, my heart pounding in my chest.
Was that him? Was he coming this way?
I found myself glancing over my shoulder every few minutes, half expecting to see Simon looming behind me, that cold smile on his face.
The day dragged on in a haze of paranoia and fear. By the time five o'clock rolled around, my nerves were frayed to the breaking point.
I gathered my things and practically ran for the exit, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone. I could feel Simon's eyes on me, could almost hear his voice in my head.
"Leaving so soon, Norman?"
But I didn't look back. I couldn't. I just kept walking, my pace quickening with every step until I was practically running down the street.
The rain was coming down in sheets as I finally reached my apartment building, my clothes soaked through and my shoes squelching with every step. All I wanted was to get inside, to peel off these wet clothes and lose myself in mindless TV for a few hours.
But as I approached the entrance, I saw my landlord standing outside with a man in a hard hat, both of them looking up at the building with grim expressions. My heart sank.
"What's going on?" I asked, dreading the answer.
My landlord turned to me, his face a mix of exhaustion and frustration. "Roof collapse," he said, pointing upwards. "The rain was just too much. It caved in over your unit."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "My apartment? Is... is everything ruined?"
He shrugged helplessly. "Hard to say until we can get in there and assess the damage. But it's not looking good."
I ran a hand over my face, trying to process this new disaster. "Where am I supposed to stay? Do you have any other units available?"
The landlord shook his head. "I'm sorry, Norman. Everything's full up. This storm has caused problems all over the city."
I could feel panic starting to rise in my chest. I couldn't afford a hotel, not with my meager savings, especially not after being exhausted by Emily. And with the storm still raging, I doubted I'd be able to find a room anyway.
"What... what am I supposed to do?" I asked, hating how small and lost my voice sounded.
The landlord sighed, looking genuinely apologetic. "I wish I had a better answer for you. Maybe you could stay with a friend or family member until we get this sorted out?"
I almost laughed at the suggestion. Friends? Family? I had neither. My life had been consumed by work for so long that I had let all my personal relationships wither away.
I thanked the landlord numbly and trudged back out into the rain, my mind reeling. I was homeless, jobless (or soon to be), and I had a psychotic boss stalking me.
Desperate for a solution, I pulled out my phone, my trembling fingers leaving wet smears on the screen as I scrolled through my contacts.
The list was depressingly short. Coworkers I barely knew, a few old acquaintances I hadn't spoken to in years. No one I could ask for help in this situation.
As I scrolled, my thumb hovered over an entry with no name attached. Just a number.
That's right… President Heath put his number in my phone…
Why didn't he add his name?
I quickly scrolled past the number, my mind racing. There had to be another option, someone else I could turn to. But as I reached the end of my pitiful contact list, the reality of my isolation hit me hard.
I had no one.
Lowering the phone, I stared out into the rain-soaked street.
What the hell was I going to do?
I wandered the streets aimlessly, the rain pelting down on me, soaking me to the bone. But I barely felt it. I was too numb, too shocked to feel much of anything.
I found myself in a park, collapsing onto a bench under a tree that provided little shelter from the downpour. I put my head in my hands, feeling the weight of my situation pressing down on me like a physical force.
I don't know how long I sat there on that bench, letting the rain soak through my clothes and into my bones. Time seemed to lose all meaning as I stared blankly into the distance, my mind numb with shock and despair.
At some point, night fell, the darkness wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. The rain had slowed to a miserable drizzle, but it made little difference. I was already drenched to the core.
I curled up on the bench, trying to conserve what little warmth I had left. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, my body shaking with violent shivers. I had never felt so cold, so utterly miserable in my entire life.
I must have drifted off at some point, exhaustion finally overpowering my discomfort. But my respite was short-lived.
I awoke to rough hands grabbing at me, yanking me off the bench. Disoriented and half-asleep, I couldn't make out their faces in the dark. But I could hear their voices, rough and threatening.
"Wallet and phone, now," one of them growled, his grip on my arm painfully tight.
I fumbled with my pockets, my fingers clumsy with cold and fear. "I don't... I don't have much," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
The other man laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "We'll be the judge of that."
They ripped my wallet from my hands, emptying it of the meager bills and coins inside. My phone went next, yanked from my grasp before I could even think to try and use it to call for help.
And then, just as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone, melting back into the shadows and leaving me alone once more.
I sank back onto the bench, my body trembling with more than just cold now. I had thought I had hit rock bottom before, but this... this was a whole new level of despair.
I had nothing left. No home, no possessions, no dignity. I was utterly, completely destitute.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering violently. What were my options? Shelters would be full on a night like this. I had no money for even the cheapest motel. And I knew no one in this city well enough to ask for help.
No one except...
Simon's face flashed in my mind, and I felt my stomach twist. The thought of turning to him, of putting myself in his debt, made me nauseous. But as another gust of wind cut through my wet clothes, I couldn't help but think of his large, warm apartment. The possibility of a dry place to sleep, even if it came with strings attached.
The thought of going to him, of asking for his help, made my skin crawl. But what choice did I have? I couldn't sleep on this bench forever. It was either Simon or the streets. And as much as Simon unnerved me, hypothermia terrified me more.
I spotted a payphone across the street, taunting me with its promise of connection. I had just enough change left in my pocket for one call.
My legs shook as I stood, whether from cold or fear I couldn't tell.
I reached for the receiver, my hand trembling
I froze, my hand hovering over the payphone receiver, the cold metal of the coins biting into my palm.
No. I couldn't do it. Even as I stared at the payphone, the cold metal of the coins biting into my palm, I couldn't bring myself to call Simon.
The thought of turning to him, of putting myself in his debt, made my stomach churn with a sickening mix of fear and revulsion. No matter how desperate I was, I couldn't cross that line.
So I pocketed the coins and curled back up on the bench, resigned to my fate. If I was going to suffer, at least it would be on my own terms.
I don't know how long I sat there, shivering and miserable, before I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. At first, I tensed, thinking my attackers had returned to finish the job. But then I heard a voice that made my blood run cold.
"Norman."
My head snapped up, my eyes wide with shock and disbelief. There, standing before me in the pouring rain, was Simon. He was holding an umbrella, looking down at me with an expression that was equal parts concern and amusement.
I scrambled to my feet, backing away from him instinctively. "What... what are you doing here?" I stammered, my voice raw and hoarse.
Simon held up a plastic bag, the logo of a nearby Chinese restaurant emblazoned on the side. "I was just picking up some takeout and decided to cut through the park. Lucky thing too, you look like you could use a hand."
I eyed him warily, not entirely convinced by his explanation. It seemed too convenient, too perfectly timed. But I couldn't exactly accuse him of lying, not without revealing what I knew about the photograph in his office.
So I simply nodded, mumbling a thanks as we continued walking. The smell of the food wafting from the bag made my stomach growl, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch.
Desperate for some kind of clarification, I ventured another question. "Do you often cut through this park on your way home?"
But Simon didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject abruptly. "Norman, forgive me for asking, but... do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"
I blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in topic. It was clear he didn't want to discuss his reasons for being here any further. Part of me wanted to push, to demand the truth. But a larger part, the part that was cold and tired and frightened, just wanted a warm bed to sleep in.
I swallowed my frustration and nodded, not wanting to push my luck. "No," I admitted quietly. "I don't."
"I see," Simon said, his voice neutral. Then, after a pause that felt endless, "Well, I have a spare room. You're welcome to stay with me until you sort things out."
My mind raced. The offer was tempting - warmth, safety, food. But accepting meant putting myself further in Simon's debt, crossing a line I'd been hesitant to approach.
Before I could give him an answer, Simon draped his coat over my shoulders. The sudden warmth made me shiver.
"Come on," he said, "Let's get you out of this rain."
As we walked, I realized that Simon had shifted the umbrella, holding it more over me than himself. The rain was now falling on his shoulder, soaking into his expensive suit.
"Sir, the umbrella...," I pointed out, "I'm already drenched, you should keep yourself dry."
But Simon didn't respond. He just kept walking, holding the umbrella steadfastly over my head, his expression unreadable.
I sighed and simply pulled the coat tighter around me, mumbling a thank you as we continued walking.
As we made our way out of the park, I couldn't help but notice that Simon didn't ask me what had happened or why I was out in the rain. It was as if he already knew, as if my current predicament was no surprise to him.
The thought sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
Suddenly, Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar wallet and phone. My wallet and phone, the ones that had been stolen from me just minutes before.
He handed them to me casually, as if returning a borrowed pen. "I believe these belong to you."
I stared at him, my mouth agape, my mind reeling with questions. "How... how did you get these? I was just mugged, they took everything..."
Simon shrugged, that same infuriatingly casual gesture.
And so, I just walked beside him in silence, accepting his coat and his umbrella and his unspoken generosity, all the while wondering what price I would eventually have to pay for it.
Because with Simon, I was starting to realize, nothing came for free. Every kindness, every gesture, was a calculated move in a game only he knew the rules to.
We walked for a while longer, the rain gradually lessening as we made our way through the city streets. Eventually, we arrived at a tall, imposing building. Simon punched a code into the keypad and the door clicked open.
As we entered Simon's apartment, I couldn't help but gape at the sheer opulence of it all. High ceilings, gleaming hardwood floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the city skyline. It was like stepping into a different world, one far removed from the dingy, cramped spaces I was used to.
Simon seemed unfazed by my awe, casually tossing his keys onto a nearby table as he led me further into the apartment. He disappeared into a room for a moment, emerging with a stack of neatly folded clothes.
"Here," he said, handing them to me. "These should fit you. The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right."
I took the clothes, a frown creasing my brow. They looked to be about my size, but Simon and I were not built the same. He was taller, broader in the shoulders. How did he just happen to have clothes that would fit me?
As if reading my mind, Simon offered an explanation. "My nephew stays over sometimes. He's about your size. Leaves some clothes here for convenience."
I call bullshit.
I nodded.
Thanking him, I made my way to the bathroom.
The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment, all gleaming marble and shining chrome. But I hardly noticed. I was too busy scouring every inch of it, looking for any sign of hidden cameras or recording devices.
I checked behind the mirror, under the sink, in the shower. I ran my hands along the walls, feeling for any bumps or irregularities.
But I found nothing. The bathroom seemed clean, untampered with.
Finally, satisfied that I wasn't being watched, at least not here, I allowed myself to undress and step into the shower. The hot water was a shock to my system, almost painful on my chilled skin. But slowly, I felt myself beginning to thaw, the heat seeping into my bones and easing the ache of the cold.
I stayed in there for a long time, letting the water wash away the grime and the fear and the confusion of the night. But no matter how long I stood under the spray, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the sense that I was in way over my head.
When I finally emerged, dressed in the clothes Simon had provided, I found him sitting at the dining table, his laptop open in front of him. The takeout bags were still sitting on the counter, untouched.
"You didn't eat?" I asked, nodding towards the bags.
Simon glanced up, his eyes meeting mine over the top of his computer screen. For a second, I could see him pause- his eyes trailing downwards on my body before he quickly masked his expression with a smile.
"I got caught up in some work emails. I'll heat it up in a bit."
But there was something about the way he said it, something about the careful blankness of his expression, that made me think there was more to it than that.
He had gone out to get food, had used it as an excuse for why he was in the park. But now, he seemed uninterested in actually eating it.
Simon's eyes flicked back down to his laptop, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Those pajamas look good on you."
I fought the urge to shiver at the unexpected comment, forcing a tight smile on my face. "Thank you," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. "Your nephew has good taste in clothes."
But inside, a wave of discomfort washed over me. Simon's behavior was becoming increasingly unsettling, his casual remarks filled with an underlying tension that I couldn't quite place.
Before I could voice any more questions, Simon abruptly stood up, closing his laptop with a decisive snap. "I bet you could use a drink after today."
I hesitated, unsure if accepting his offer was wise but before I could protest, Simon was already pouring two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to me, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as I took it from him.
I stared down at the glass, feeling a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach.
I took a cautious sip of the whiskey, the fiery liquid burning down my throat. The burn of it startled me, warming my insides and making me acutely aware of how vulnerable I was in this lavish apartment with a man whose motives I couldn't quite decipher.
Simon watched me intently before taking a sip of his own drink.
"So…. you saw it." Simon suddenly said, breaking the tense silence that hung between us. His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt sweat begin to build on the back of my neck.
"Saw what?" I asked cautiously, playing dumb despite the unease coiling in my stomach.
Simon leaned back in his seat, swirling the whiskey around in his glass as he studied me. His eyes glittered with an intensity that made my skin crawl. He took another sip of his whiskey, savoring the moment before answering.
"The photo album."
"Wait. What?"
"Photo album?"
Simon's lips curved into a sly smile, as if he relished the confusion and fear that flickered across my face. "Yeah, the photo album I keep of all employees. At the end of the year, we use it to make a collage for the staff board."
My jaw dropped, confusion, doubt and disbelief swirling together in my guts like a slurry.
ALBUM!?