Chapter Nineteen The Intern
Colin arrived at Golden Thread Pictures at 8:52 AM, which was early for him.
He usually rolled in at 9:15, coffee in hand, ready to face another day of script coverage and development meetings.
But today there was a new intern starting, and Gerald had sent a memo—a rare event—saying that everyone should be "professional and welcoming. "
Colin had printed the memo and showed it to Miu when she finally dragged herself in at 9:23 AM.
She read it. "Professional and welcoming? Gerald wrote this?"
"He's very excited about the intern."
"He's never excited about anything. He once called a baby 'an inefficient use of resources.'"
"The intern is someone's nephew. Someone important enough that Gerald is pretending to have feelings."
Miu dropped into her chair. Her hoodie today said I'm silently judging your life choices. Her socks did not match. One was green. One was purple. Her hair was doing something that might have been intentional but probably wasn't.
"What's the intern's name?" she asked.
"Brandon."
"Brandon what?"
"Brandon Patterson."
Miu raised an eyebrow. "Patterson? As in—"
"Executive floor Patterson. His uncle is Richard Patterson. Senior VP of Operations."
Miu let out a low whistle. "Senior VP. That's... not nothing."
"It's not board level, but it's enough. Richard Patterson has been with Thomson Group for twelve years. He manages half the operational budget. He's the kind of person who gets invited to the good holiday parties."
"And his nephew is spending six weeks with us."
"Gerald made us wear professionalism for a Senior VP's nephew. The nephew is incidental."
Miu pulled out her phone. Typed something.
Colin pretended not to notice. He had learned, over the past few weeks, that Miu's phone was a direct line to someone who made her smile.
He didn't know who. He didn't ask. But he had seen the way she checked it every few minutes, the way her face softened when a message came through.
He also knew. They all knew. The CEO visit had been impossible to miss.
The way Lena Thomson had looked at Miu. The way Miu had said we can discuss this at home.
The way the most powerful woman in Vancouver had stood in their office and spoken to a junior screenwriter like she was the only person in the room.
No one talked about it. But everyone knew.
"You're texting your landlord again," Colin said.
"I'm texting someone who makes me happy. You should try it."
"I make myself happy."
"That's sad."
"You're sad."
"I'm pregnant. There's a difference."
---
Brandon Patterson arrived at 10:00 AM sharp.
He was twenty-three, freshly graduated from a business school Colin had never heard of, and wearing a suit that cost more than Colin's monthly rent.
His hair was gelled. His smile was polished.
His handshake was the kind that crushed your fingers to establish dominance.
Gerald introduced him to the office with the enthusiasm of a man who had been told to be enthusiastic. "This is Brandon. He'll be with us for the next six weeks, learning the development process. Please make him feel welcome."
Brandon nodded at the room like a politician accepting an endorsement. His gaze swept over the writers' desks, the stacks of scripts, the general chaos of a creative office. When his eyes landed on Miu, they stopped.
She was typing. Her hoodie was visible. Her mismatched socks were visible. The cat hair on her jeans was visible.
Brandon's smile tightened.
Gerald continued the tour. He introduced Colin first—"Colin is one of our senior development associates." Brandon shook his hand. Firm. Dominant. Colin smiled his best I will outlast you smile.
Then Gerald moved to Miu's desk. "And this is Miu. One of our junior screenwriters. She's working on a very promising project."
Brandon looked at her. His gaze traveled from her hoodie to her unbuttoned jeans to the stack of pregnancy books on her desk. His expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes shifted. Cooled.
"Miu," he said. "Is that short for something?"
"It's short for Miu."
"Thai?"
"Yes."
"Interesting." He looked at her stomach. Not subtle. "I didn't realize we had diversity initiatives in the writing department."
The office went quiet. Colin saw Jen's hands freeze on her keyboard. Priya looked up from her screen. Sandra emerged from the break room doorway.
Miu looked up from her screen. Her face was neutral. "We don't. I was hired because I can write."
Brandon smiled. "Of course you were."
He walked away. Gerald followed. The rest of the office pretended to work.
Colin leaned toward Miu's desk. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"That. The... tone."
Miu shrugged. "He's a rich kid with a Senior VP uncle. I've met his type before."
"You're not going to say anything?"
"What am I going to say? 'Stop looking at my stomach'? He'll just look harder."
Colin looked at her. Her hands were steady on the keyboard. Her face was calm. But he had known her for two years. He saw the tightness in her jaw, the way her shoulders were just slightly too straight.
Across the room, Jen caught his eye. Her expression said did you hear that? Colin gave a small nod. They all had.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine. I'm always fine."
"You're not always fine. You cried last week because the vending machine was out of gummy bears."
"That was different. That was hormonal. This is just... Brandon."
Colin let it go. But he kept watching.
---
The incident happened at 2:30 PM.
Colin was at the coffee machine when he heard Brandon's voice from the break room. Loud. Confident. The voice of someone who had never been told to lower his volume.
"—I'm just saying, if this is the quality of people they're hiring, it's no wonder the creative division is underperforming. My uncle says the whole department needs to be restructured. Too many people who don't understand what it means to be professional."
Colin walked toward the break room. Jen and Priya were standing by the door, their faces tense. Sandra was inside, pretending to refill her water bottle. And Miu was sitting at the communal table, eating a banana, looking at Brandon like he was a mildly interesting insect.
Brandon didn't see Colin. He was facing Miu, his back to the door.
"I mean, look at her. She comes in late, she wears hoodies, she's clearly not taking this seriously. And now she's pregnant? It's like she's not even trying to be professional. Some people just... you know. They get pregnant and suddenly the job doesn't matter anymore. It's a pattern."
Miu took a bite of her banana. Chewed. Swallowed. "The baby requires potassium."
Brandon's face flushed. "This isn't a joke.
My uncle has been with Thomson Group for twelve years.
He's seen this company go from a respected organization to a—" He gestured at Miu's general direction.
"A daycare. For people who write about cats and show up in whatever they pulled out of their laundry basket. "
Miu's expression didn't change. "The cat script is optioned, actually. We're in talks with a production company."
Brandon laughed. It was not a nice laugh. "Optioned? That's not a movie. That's a piece of paper. Anyone can option a script. My uncle says the creative division is full of people who think potential is the same as achievement. And frankly, looking around, I can see what he means."
Colin stepped into the room. "Brandon. Maybe we should get back to the tour."
Brandon turned. Saw Colin. Didn't look embarrassed. "I'm just being honest. Isn't that what this company values? Honesty?"
"We value respect too."
"I respect hard work. I respect professionalism.
I don't respect—" He looked back at Miu.
"I don't respect people who use pregnancy as an excuse to do the bare minimum.
I don't respect people who dress like they're going to a dorm room instead of an office.
And I really don't respect people who think they're special just because they're different. "
Miu set down her banana. "Brandon. Can I give you some advice?"
Brandon's chin lifted. "I didn't ask for advice."
"You're going to get it anyway." Miu stood.
She was shorter than him. Her hoodie was wrinkled.
Her socks didn't match. But she looked at him like he was a problem she had already solved.
"You're in a room full of people who have been doing this job longer than you've been out of college.
You're a guest here. A temporary guest. And you're spending your first day insulting the people who could teach you something. "
Brandon's face was red. "I don't need to learn from—"
"You do. You need to learn from everyone. That's what interns are supposed to do. Watch. Listen. Shut up. But instead, you're standing in a break room, telling a pregnant woman that she's not working hard enough, because you think your uncle's name protects you."
Brandon stepped closer. "My uncle is Senior VP of Operations. He's been with Thomson Group for twelve years. He knows everyone who matters. And when I tell him about the lack of professionalism in this department—"
"Tell him," Miu said. "Tell him everything. Tell him about my hoodie. Tell him about my socks. Tell him I'm pregnant and Thai and I don't dress the way you think I should. And then see if he wants to explain to anyone why his nephew was sent home on his first day for harassing a pregnant woman."
Brandon laughed, but it was shaky. "Sent home? You think you have the power to send me home? You? The writer who can't even afford pants that button?"
Miu looked at him. Her face was calm. "I'm not going to send you anywhere. You're going to send yourself. You just don't know it yet."
She picked up her banana and walked out. The break room was silent.
Colin watched her go. Then he turned to Brandon. Brandon's face was red, his hands were shaking, and he was looking at the door like he couldn't believe she had walked away from him.
Colin stepped closer. "Brandon."
"What?"
"You should be careful."
Brandon's eyes narrowed. "Careful of what? Her? She's a writer in a cat hoodie. She's nobody."
Colin looked at him. He thought about the CEO visit. The way Lena Thomson had looked at Miu. The way she had said we can discuss this later, at home. The way Miu had gotten into a black sedan with Thomson Group plates at the end of the day.
He thought about telling Brandon the truth. But something stopped him. Something about the way Miu had handled it—quiet, steady, without using anyone's name. She hadn't threatened Brandon with the CEO. She hadn't mentioned Lena at all. She had just stood there, defended herself, and walked away.
She didn't need Colin to fight her battles. But she deserved to have someone warn the people who crossed her.
"She's not nobody," Colin said quietly. "And if you keep talking to her like that, you're going to end up regretting it. More than you can imagine."
Brandon laughed. "What's she going to do? Write a strongly worded script about me?"
Colin didn't laugh. "I'm serious. Watch your mouth. Or don't. It's your career."
He walked out. Behind him, Brandon was still laughing. It sounded hollow.
---
The next morning, Colin arrived at 8:45 AM. He wanted to get ahead of the day, finish some coverage, avoid whatever drama Brandon was going to bring.
He was at his desk when Miu walked in. But she didn't come through the front door. She came through the parking lot entrance, the one that opened onto the side street.
And she wasn't alone.
A black car was pulling away from the curb. A sleek sedan with tinted windows. Colin recognized it. He had seen it before, waiting outside the building, picking Miu up at the end of long days.
Miu walked in. Her hoodie today was grey, with a cartoon cat napping on a stack of books. Her hair was messy. She looked tired but calm.
"What?" she said, catching Colin staring.
"Nothing. You just—" He gestured vaguely toward the parking lot. "That car. I've seen it before."
"It's a car. They exist."
"The person driving it—"
"My neighbor. We carpool."
Colin opened his mouth. Closed it. "Your neighbor drives a car with Thomson Group plates?"
Miu sat down at her desk. "He's very loyal to his employer."
Colin stared at her. She was typing already, the cursor moving across the screen, the cat script taking shape. She didn't look up.
He was about to ask another question when Brandon walked in.
Brandon's eyes went to Miu first. Then to the parking lot entrance. Then back to Miu. A slow smile spread across his face.
"I saw you," Brandon said.
Miu didn't look up. "Congratulations."
"Getting out of that car. The black one. With the driver." Brandon leaned against the desk next to hers. "So that's who knocked you up. The chauffeur."
Colin's hands stopped moving.
Miu's typing didn't stop. "He's not a chauffeur."
"He drives a car for a living. That's the definition." Brandon's smile widened. "I have to say, I'm impressed. You really aimed high. Senior VP's nephew? Too good for you. But a driver? That's more your speed."
Jen had stopped working. Priya had stopped working. The whole office had stopped working. They were all watching, waiting to see what Miu would do.
Miu kept typing. "Is there a reason you're standing at my desk?"
"I'm just curious. What's it like? Knowing that the father of your child is someone who opens doors for a living? That your baby is going to grow up with a father who—"
"His job," Miu said, still typing, "is none of your business. My baby is none of your business. And standing at my desk, trying to make me feel small, is not going to work. So you can go back to your internship, learn something, and leave me alone."
Brandon's face flushed. "You think you're better than me?"
"I think I'm working. Which is more than you're doing."
Brandon's hands clenched. "You're nothing. You're a writer in a hoodie who got knocked up by a driver. You don't matter. My uncle—"
"Your uncle is Senior VP of Operations," Miu said, finally looking up. "You've mentioned. Several times. It's not as impressive as you think it is."
She went back to typing. Brandon stood there for a moment, his face red, his hands shaking. Then he turned and walked to his temporary desk, muttering something under his breath.
Colin looked at Miu. She was still typing. Her face was calm, but her hands were shaking. Just a little.
He didn't say anything. He just pushed the bag of gummy bears—the green ones—across her desk.
She glanced at it. Then at him. "You're a good friend, Colin."
"I know."
---
Across the city, on the forty-seventh floor of Thomson Group headquarters, Lena Thomson was reviewing quarterly reports when Adrian Park walked into her office.
He was holding a cup of coffee—black, no sugar, the same order for eight years—and his expression was the carefully neutral one he wore when he had information he didn't want to share.
"The Patterson situation," Adrian said, setting the coffee down.
Lena looked up. "Richard Patterson? The Senior VP?"
"His nephew. Brandon. The one who started at Golden Thread yesterday."
Lena set down her pen. "What about him?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "There's been... an incident. This morning. And yesterday."
He summarized it. The comments about Miu's appearance. The comments about her pregnancy. The diversity hire implication. The power-tripping. The confrontation in the break room. The way Miu had handled it—quiet, steady, without mentioning Lena's name.
Lena's face didn't change. But Adrian had worked for her for eight years. He saw the way her fingers pressed into the armrest. The way her breathing slowed. The way she went very, very still.
"Richard Patterson's nephew," Lena said.
"Yes."
"He called Miu nothing."
"He did."
Lena stood. Walked to the window. The water was gray. The mountains were hiding. The city was spread out below her, the city she had built, the city she controlled.
"What are you planning?" Adrian asked.
Lena walked back to her desk. Picked up her pen. Opened the quarterly report.
"I'm not planning anything," she said. "I'm waiting."
Adrian stood there for a moment. Then he nodded. He understood.
The rumor would spread. Brandon would feel powerful. Richard Patterson would hear about it.
But the rumor wasn't true. And when the truth comes out—that Miu Srisuwan was not carrying Adrian Park's child, that she was carrying Lena Thomson's genetic material, that she was the one person in this city who had the power to make Lena Thomson soft—it wouldn't be a weakness.
It would be a weapon.
Adrian left the office. The door closed behind him.
Lena sat at her desk. The quarterly report was open in front of her. She wasn't reading it.
She was thinking about Miu. About the way she had handled Brandon Patterson without mentioning Lena's name.
About the way she had stood in a break room and defended herself against a man who thought he was untouchable.
About the way she had walked away, calm and steady, refusing to use the power she had.
Miu didn't need Lena to fight her battles. Miu had never asked for anything.
But Lena was going to give her everything anyway.
The city was waiting. The rumor was spreading. And somewhere in the building below her, Richard Patterson will hear that his nephew will ruin his and their family's legacy.