Love Unspoken

Public transportation was a nonentity in this part of town, leaving a cab ride to the office as the sole means of commute. Drawing out her phone, she tapped into her messaging app, only to have her face turn a ghostly white.

A wave of panic seized her, sending chills down her spine. There was an unread message from Nicholas, and yet, it had been seen by someone else. In the villa, the only other occupant was Alexander. She hadn't seen the message, so who else could have possibly touched her phone? The answer was glaringly obvious.

Her fingers trembled as she tapped open the message. It was from Nichol as, reading, "What's the problem? But no worries, if it's inconvenient to talk over the phone, we can meet in person."

Quinn's breath hitched, her phone slipping from her grasp and clattering onto the car's floor. She closed her eyes, the chilly breeze from the car window stinging her cheeks.

"Miss, we've arrived."Jolted back to reality, Quinn picked up her phone and stepped out of the car. She walked into the company building, her demeanor akin to a lost soul. Clocking in, she took her seat in front of her computer.

An instant message from Kyle popped up on her workstation, listing the day's tasks. "Hey, newbie, I need twenty copies of this document for a meeting later."

A stack of files landed with a thud in front of Quinn. Looking up, she saw a curly-haired woman, her name badge reading 'Secretary-Maria.' This desk had once belonged to Getty, and those who had been oppressed under Getty hadn't forgotten their disdain for the position or the person who occupied it. They now projected their hatred onto Quinn.

watched Quinn's retreating back with a sneer. A colleague leaned in, whispering, "Maria,

be the next Getty.' Maria chuckled, "Did you hear

"What happened?"

was so worried he skipped the meeting and went straight down. Quinn

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story remained. Maria added, "I mean, how many Gettys can there be, right? You're overthinking it. I bet she's just some executive's relative

shared a sense of contempt. No matter whose relative Quinn might be, nobody would be nice to her. At the copier, Quinn was indeed clueless, fumbling with the machine. She mixed up printing and copying, didn't know how to place the pages properly, and ended

she was lost in her thoughts, a voice from behind startled

friendly smile

stack of papers, utterly clueless. She couldn't even operate the copier. Working here