Ch. 26 The Contract Without Claws
Monday morning dawns bright and clear. The light stabs into my eyes.
It's like the universe is mocking me for my mistakes. I couldn't sleep last night, and now I'm barely able to crawl out of bed.
God.
I get to the office, head pounding. Kyle meets me at the entrance, coffee in hand.
"Bad night, right?"
"Seriously, do you have cameras hidden everywhere that I don't know about?"
He just grins mysteriously.
"Have you gotten Celeste's sign on the contract yet?"
"I'm working on it. Is Celeste in? Why don't you bring her up? I'll go through the contract with her."
He nods and moves away, while I ride the elevator to my floor and settle in.
—----------------------
I'm staring at my screen—but I don't really see anything.
My pulse flickers, and the world tilts for a few seconds before righting itself.
I can't find it in me to care. I try to type, but my whole body feels like it's filled with sand.
I had to redo so many things over the weekend, I barely slept. I even ran out of my lollipops.
My phone buzzes. My fingers twitch while trying to swipe it, and my voice sounds weak.
"Hello?"
"Celeste? This is Kyle. Marcus is looking for you. Can you go up to his office in fifteen minutes?"
"Fine. Do you know what it's about?"
"Yes." And apparently that's the hill he wants to die on because he refuses to tell me more.
I hang up. He sounded happy enough...shouldn't be bad news at least.
Why does fifteen minutes feel like a lifetime?
—-----------------------
I go through the contract again—it's more streamlined, the addendum and the salary hike factored in, clearer power structure, and the 'walk-away' clause completely removed.
At this point, I might as well have it memorized.
A knock sounds on my door.
Celeste enters, looking even more exhausted than last time. She has shadows under eyes that look glazed over.
I'm on my feet and walking towards her before I even realize I'm up.
"Are you alright?"
Her eyes widen and she blinks at me, some life pouring back into them. "Umm. Yes. Yes, I'm fine."
I pause a few feet away, tongue tied.
"Are you still being bullied?" The words taste like ash.
"Nolan is fine. It's nothing I can't handle."
I open my mouth to argue, but looking at the resolve in her eyes, I decide to drop it.
I have to trust that she knows what she's doing.
"I called you in, today, because I thought we should really review your contract. A lot of changes have happened recently, and a fresh contract will better reflect that. Here."
I hand her the draft and gesture at her to read it.
Her eyes turn wary as she takes it and starts reading.
It's on the last page that her mind registers the confusion. She flips the last page, and the back is empty. She grabs the second copy and reads through it.
"What is the meaning of this? Where is the walk-away clause?" Her voice is sharp, like she's expecting a trap.
My chest hurts. But I deserve this.
"I'm voiding the previous contract and cancelling that clause."
She goes still—completely still.
"What you're saying is—even if ADAI fails, I no longer have to leave?" Her voice is breathy, like she can't get the words out fast enough.
I nod. "That's correct."
"Why?"
Her eyes remain skeptical, though I can sense a thread of hope in her voice.
"Because you're great at what you do. Because you're a better person than most people I know."
I look her straight in the eye as I say some of the most important words I've ever said.
"I never should have doubted you."
She sits in silence for many long minutes, the contract clutched tightly in her hand.
I can hear the tick of the clock and feel the mild vibration of the HVAC through the floor.
The whole room seems to be holding its breath.
She opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Eventually, she snaps it shut.
"Thank you." Her words are distant, almost empty. She signs the pages, even though it seems more mechanical than meaningful.
I can see it in her eyes—the struggle to process this change.
Eventually, she gets up and turns to leave. My fingers twitch with the desire to stop her.
"I know you didn't do it, Celeste." My words rush out, low but desperate, and she stiffens as they reach her.
"I'm sure you've never cheated on an exam. I know you didn't frame me."
Her breath hitches, before she walks out—knuckles white on the papers—my words hanging heavy between us.
—-----------------------
Celeste
He knows. He knows.
He doesn't want me gone.
A few days back, I would have rejoiced. Today, I'm not even sure I have the bandwidth to care.
What am I to do with that information? Will it fix my life? Give me back my brother—my friends?
I clutch the contract tighter, until my knuckles turn white.
It's difficult to think. To breathe.
The cabin door shuts behind me, and a breath escapes.
I get in the elevator and wait for it to descend. It crosses my work floor and I don't even realise.
It finally empties on the cafeteria level and I exit along with everyone else. I keep walking, heart humming like a tiny bird trapped against my ribs.
It's too much. I hear Kyle's voice close by.
I can't—I can't deal with this right now.
He spots me, and walks over.
He probably already knows.
I paste a smile on my face. He hands me a coffee and asks me how the meeting went.
I pause, trying to come up with something but someone calls him away before I have to answer.
I drink the coffee absently and return to my table. I have so much work still to do. The signed contract sits on my desk, buried beneath a multitude of other files—while buckle down for another long day.
The last person on my team has already left by the time I look up.
It's completely dark outside.
Way past dinner time. And I skipped lunch too.
My vision feels bleary after staring at a screen all afternoon. A vice grips my head before loosening, causing me to stumble as I get up.
I drink the final dregs of the now cold coffee sitting on my desk and head towards the elevator.
—------------------
Everything outside the bus window looks blurred—like blobs of color.
It's a challenge to keep my eyes open—but I can't afford to nap and miss my stop—so I force my eyes to remain open.
Now that I don't have work to distract me, scenes from this morning find their way into my thoughts.
I try to make sense of what happened... How could Marcus possibly have found out?
It feels like I'm trying to make sense of the world while hanging upside down.
I eventually get off the bus and start walking home.
Pins and needles sting my hands and legs. I must be hungry or I'm really hopped up on coffee.
My chest feels tighter with each stair I climb and it's difficult to breathe.
I pause at a landing and look up. Just a few stairs more—I can see my door.
My head pounds from the blood rushing upwards. I straighten and start climbing. At some point, my phone starts ringing and I pull it out. I can't read the name.
Am I even moving?
I try to take a step but my foot scrapes across an edge. My door is so close.
My shoulder bag drags on my body. My arms flail and I gasp.
A sense of weightlessness takes over.
I tip over and fall. I can hear my bag land on the floor, the sound echoing through the stairwell.
I try to grip the wall, the concrete scraping against my fingertips before my back impacts the ground. My breath is knocked out of me.
I slide down a flight of stairs.
I finally tumble to a stop. I curl up on the floor, struggling to take air in.
All I can smell is dirt, cement and a faint whiff of garbage.
Pain radiates through my bones—even my skull feels rattled. Something warm trickles down my face.
My brain refuses to work, but I know I need help. My phone is still clutched in my hand, but the screen is cracked. I tap it and a missed call notification springs up. I blindly tap the screen, praying for a miracle.
Someone answers in one ring. The voice sounds familiar—so close and yet so far.
Marcus.
Spots appear and my vision darkens.
"Celeste. Hello? Celeste?"
I try to speak and something garbled comes out. I try again.
"Help." The word leaves my mouth in a whisper—barely audible.
"Celeste? Celeste, where are you?" His question is urgent, his voice almost hysterical.
I exhale.
Home.
My eyes drift close, and darkness takes over.