Chapter 12: Untitled

Chapter 12

Meanwhile, in his newly acquired corner office, Richard leaned back in his chair, staring out the window as he turned a sleek pen between his fingers. The exchange in the cafeteria replayed in his mind. Stella's boldness had caught him off guard.

"She's different," he murmured to himself.

Patricia, who was lounging on the office couch scrolling through her phone, glanced up. "What’s different?"

"Stella," he said, his tone thoughtful. "She’s... not the same woman I left behind."

Patricia snorted, tossing her phone aside. "You’re giving her too much credit. It’s just a haircut and some misplaced bravado. She’ll fade into the background soon enough."

Richard shook his head. "No. There’s more to it. She’s unpredictable now. That makes her... dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Patricia laughed. "You can’t be serious. Stella couldn’t scheme her way out of a paper bag."

Richard didn’t respond immediately. He tapped the pen against his desk, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe not," he admitted. "But she’s wounded. And people who are wounded can be reckless."

Patricia rolled her eyes. "If you’re so worried about her, why not just fire her and be done with it?"

Richard smirked, leaning forward. "Where’s the fun in that? Besides, she intrigues me now. I want to see how far she’s willing to go."

Patricia didn’t like the gleam in his eyes. She straightened up, her tone sharp. "Don’t tell me you’re still interested in her, Richard. We’re engaged, remember?"

"Relax," Richard said smoothly. "This isn’t about that. It’s about control. Stella needs to remember her place."

"And if she doesn’t?" Patricia challenged.

"Then I’ll remind her," Richard said, his voice cold.

Back at her desk, Stella was determined to keep pushing forward. Her newfound confidence—or what little she could muster—was fragile but growing. She even caught herself smiling as she worked.

That evening, as she packed up her things, Clara approached her, looking hesitant.

"Hey, Stella," Clara began, fidgeting with her hands. "I just wanted to say... you’re really brave."

Stella blinked, caught off guard. "Brave? For what?"

"For... you know, showing up like this after everything that’s happened," Clara said. "I mean, the hair, the whole Richard thing... most people would’ve crumbled."

Stella managed a small smile. "Thanks, Clara. That means a lot."

As she walked out of the office, Stella felt a flicker of hope. Maybe she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

Richard watched from his office window as Stella left the building. Her low-cut hair caught the last rays of sunlight, giving her an almost ethereal glow. For a brief moment, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar—regret, perhaps?

But he quickly pushed the thought aside. Stella was no longer the quiet woman who doted on him. She was unpredictable now, and that meant she needed to be handled carefully.

Turning away from the window, Richard’s expression hardened. He wouldn’t let her defiance disrupt his plans. Stella might have found her voice, but Richard was determined to remind her who held the power.