Chapter 32
Natalie stepped into the office the next day, every sense on high alert. The walk down the hallway to her office felt longer than usual, each movement in her periphery magnified, every glance lingering just a second too long. Her pulse quickened, and she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder.
The person who’d tried to hurt her could be here. Watching. Waiting.
Hurried footsteps broke her focus.
Melanie approached, her expression caught between relief and something harder to read. “You’re here!” She gripped Natalie’s arm—too tightly.
Natalie winced, the bruises flaring. “Still a bit sore,” she said with a forced smile, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. But in her mind, the question stuck—was Melanie’s enthusiasm genuine… or calculated?
“Of course,” Melanie said quickly, releasing her. “We’ve just… been so worried about you.”
Before Natalie could answer, Jenny appeared, as if summoned by the scent of fresh gossip. Clipboard in hand—though clearly forgotten—she closed in with a wide-eyed look.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jenny gushed, her gaze flicking to Natalie’s arm like she was memorizing the details so she could tell everyone tidbits later. “We were all talking about it. I mean, after such a scary accident—”
“I’m fine,” Natalie cut in, more sharply than intended. She softened her tone for the small crowd that had gathered. “The airbags worked. I was lucky—just a few bruises.”
Henry’s voice broke through from the corner office. “Let’s not overwhelm her.” His tone was calm, but there was a quiet authority to it. Hands in his pockets, steps measured, he crossed the floor like a man taking stock of the room. “Natalie, come to my office.”
Relieved to escape the stares, she followed him down the hall. As they passed by desks, she caught how some people avoided her gaze entirely, while others watched her openly, eyes narrowed, as if trying to connect dots she couldn’t see.
Once inside his office, Natalie settled into a chair, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“I’m fine,” she said before he could speak. “I’ve already rescheduled my appointments. Honestly, the break gave me time to come up with some great new designs. My arm’s still a bit sore, but nothing I can’t work through.”
Henry leaned forward, elbows braced on the desk, studying her. “I think you should take more time off,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “You’ve been through something serious. No reason to rush back until you’re fully recovered.”
She gave a small laugh, aiming for casual. “I appreciate the concern, but it was just a minor car accident.”
Henry didn’t return the smile. He tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping another notch. “Someone told me it might not have been an accident.”
Natalie’s stomach tightened. Rylan’s warning. Tom’s insistence on keeping things quiet. The security detail shadowing her. All of it pressed in on her at once.
She forced another light laugh, hoping it didn’t sound hollow. “Goodness, no way. Why would anyone think that?”
Henry shrugged, leaning back in his leather chair and clapping his hands together once, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “You know how gossip spreads around here. People love drama, especially when it involves someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” she asked, her tone even, but her eyes narrowing just slightly.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t warm his expression. “A rising star. Your designs have been turning heads lately.” His gaze dipped briefly to her arm before returning to her face. “Maybe people are jealous. Who knows?”
Natalie held her expression steady, though a small knot of unease twisted in her chest. “Well, if that’s all you needed to speak with me about?” she said, careful to keep her voice polite. She was ready to step out from under the weight of his scrutiny.
Henry nodded slowly—too slowly. He didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on her, and the pause stretched long enough for her to notice he was watching her mouth as if measuring the next thing she might say.
“Yes,” he said at last, his tone deliberately even. “That’s it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The words were harmless, but the way he delivered them made her skin crawl. He didn’t lean back or relax—if anything, his posture remained intent, almost poised. A fleeting, irrational thought flickered in her mind: Could Henry have anything to do with the incidents?
No. That was ridiculous. He’d always praised her work, supported her projects, and touted her value to the firm. There was no reason for him to sabotage her.
Still… the pause, the measured way he spoke—it clung to her like static.
“I’ll just…” She gestured vaguely toward the door. “…get to work.”
He didn’t reply immediately, only gave a faint, unreadable nod, his gaze following her until she stepped out of the office. She kept her pace steady, resisting the urge to look back.
In her own office, she stopped short. Everything was spotless.
Too spotless. The faint scent of cleaning solution still lingered in the air, and her desk looked as if someone had staged it for a showroom.
No glitter, no flowers, no pillows fluffed into mockery.
But the precision felt unnatural—like someone had been here with intent.
She forced herself to shake it off and sat down, scanning her inbox. Most of the messages she’d handled while recovering, but her shoulders stayed tight, Henry’s lingering stare replaying in her head.
An hour later, just as she was packing up for her first client meeting, Jenny appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, you’re leaving?” Jenny’s voice was sugar on the surface, vinegar underneath.
Her gaze swept the office with quiet calculation.
She stepped inside without invitation, fingertips trailing along an idea board as if checking for dust. “Still not ready for full-time work?” Her smile stretched wider, though her eyes stayed cool.
“Just send me your client lists, and I’ll—”
“I’m heading to a client meeting now,” Natalie said, her voice sharp enough to cut the suggestion in half.
Jenny blinked at the tone but recovered quickly. “I was just offering to help—”
“Jenny,” Natalie interrupted, her words slow and deliberate, “if you don’t have enough clients to fill your schedule, that’s your problem. But you’re not taking mine.”
She didn’t wait for Jenny’s response. With a sharp swing, Natalie yanked her tote over her shoulder, the leather thumping hard against her side.
She brushed past Jenny without so much as a glance, the faint swish of her ponytail catching Jenny’s shoulder on the way out.
The metallic click of her office lock was louder than it needed to be, but she didn’t care.
Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered locking it at all, but Rylan and Tom had insisted on the precaution.
Today, she didn’t just agree—she relished the sound of the bolt sliding into place.
Jenny’s footsteps faded behind her as Natalie strode toward the elevator, heels striking the polished floor in quick, staccato beats.
She tried to shake off the encounter, but irritation simmered hot in her chest. Between Henry’s cryptic, too-long stares and Jenny’s not-so-subtle client poaching, her office felt less like a workspace and more like enemy territory.
And yet… as much as Henry’s behavior had unsettled her, the break-ins at her home didn’t fit neatly into the theory of a scheming coworker.
Why would someone from the office slip into her living room to leave flowers?
Fluff pillows? Drink her wine? It wasn’t theft or vandalism—it was a calling card, something intimate, like they wanted her to feel their presence long after they’d gone.
And the glitter bomb. That wasn’t office prank material. It was too elaborate. Too intentional.
Her thoughts were still tangled when she slid into the backseat of the waiting SUV, letting the leather sigh beneath her weight.
The door shut with a muted thud, and she exhaled, finally allowing her shoulders to drop.
Rylan had insisted on assigning two of his bodyguards to drive her to and from appointments, and though she’d argued at first, after this morning’s weird interactions, she welcomed the buffer between her and the rest of the world.
It was temporary, she told herself. The police—or Tom—would catch whoever was behind this. They’d stop the intrusions, and her life would slide back into the familiar rhythm she’d always known.
Normal.
The word rang hollow in her head. Because normal meant no more bodyguards. No more check-ins from Rylan. No more late-night conversations, the ones that coaxed laughter out of her even when fear still clung to her skin.
It meant no more Rylan.
The thought left an ache deep in her chest. She stared out the window, watching her own reflection blink back at her, and wondered if “normal” would ever feel safe again—or if it would simply feel empty.