The second morning of Tina's internship began with the hum of confidence. She arrived early, polished and eager, her heart thudding as the revolving doors of Grant & Stone closed behind her. She had spent the night rehearsing introductions and reading company briefs; she wanted to prove she belonged here in a place that smelled of ambition and marble floors.
Her desk, just outside Matthew Grant's office, gave her a front-row seat to the pulse of the firm. Every so often, she'd catch a glimpse of him through the frosted glass tall, deliberate, and perpetually on the phone. The kind of man who didn't ask for attention but commanded it.
By noon, the office quieted. Then, the elevator doors slid open.
An elegant woman stepped out, her white suit a statement of control, not vanity. The heels red, narrow, precise struck the floor like punctuation marks.
Conversations halted for a beat.
Tina's pen froze mid-sentence.
The woman's presence seemed to tilt the air, the way a storm announces itself before it hits. Without glancing at anyone, she walked directly toward Matthew's office, the sound of her heels echoing in rhythm with the tightening pulse in Tina's chest.
Inside, Matthew looked up just as she entered. "Genevieve," he said, standing from behind his desk, his voice equal parts surprise and composure.
"Matthew." Her tone was smooth, almost polite — but laced with something colder. "You weren't expecting me?"
"Not exactly. But then again, you never were predictable."
"I learned from the best."
A silence stretched between them.
Through the glass, Tina watched the scene unfold, uncertain if she should look away.
Moments later, Matthew opened his door. "Miss Morgan," he said, his voice suddenly crisp. "Join us, please."
Tina hesitated, then stood, clutching her notebook. Inside, the air felt heavy a mix of polished cologne, perfume, and tension.
"Miss Morgan," Matthew began, "this is Miss Taylor Genevieve Taylor. She's the CEO of Taylor Holdings and a... long-time associate of the firm."
Tina smiled, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
Genevieve barely turned her head. "Is it?"
Tina's smile faltered, her hand still awkwardly poised in the air before she withdrew it. " I suppose it is."
Matthew cleared his throat. "Tina's an intern," he said. "She'll be observing today. I trust that's all right?"
"Of course," Genevieve replied, tone clipped. "You've always been generous with... observation."
Matthew ignored the barb, though his jaw tightened slightly. "Tina, could you fetch the blue file from my office? It's on the shelf beside the lamp."
"Right away."
The door closed softly behind her.
The moment Tina disappeared, Genevieve's composure shifted. Her eyes fixed on Matthew sharp, assessing.
"So," she said quietly. "You've found a new one."
Matthew raised a brow. "A new one?"
"Intern. Assistant. Decoration. The title changes, but the story stays the same."
He leaned back in his chair, forcing a light tone. "You're imagining things again."
"I don't have to imagine. You radiate the same charm you always do when someone new walks in the attentive mentor, the patient guide." She paused, studying his face. "Do you even realize how transparent you are?"
"I'm running a company, Genevieve. Mentorship is part of that."
She laughed once, softly, though there was nothing amused about it. "You call it mentorship. I call it habit."
Before he could respond, the door opened and Tina returned, file in hand. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, whether from the walk or the tension, neither could tell.
"Here's the document, sir."
"Thank you," Matthew said, his tone warm again. "Just set it here."
Tina nodded and quietly took her seat in the corner, her pen trembling just slightly against the page.
"Let's get back to business," Matthew said, opening the folder. "You mentioned you wanted to discuss the shares."
Genevieve crossed her legs, elegant and deliberate. "I'm considering selling them. The partnership's become... restrictive."
"Restrictive?" He looked up. "Or inconvenient?"
Her lips curved faintly. "Both."
Tina kept her eyes down, pretending to take notes, but her attention was drawn helplessly to their voices the rhythm, the undertone, the way neither one spoke without testing the other.
"You built this company with me," Matthew said. "You really want to walk away?"
"I built it," she corrected softly. "You expanded it. There's a difference."
Matthew exhaled slowly, leaning forward. "You always did have a gift for rewriting history."
"And you always had a talent for rewriting loyalty." Her eyes flicked briefly toward Tina. "I see that hasn't changed."
Tina looked up, startled, then quickly pretended to re-read her notes.
Matthew's tone darkened. "That's uncalled for."
"Is it?" Genevieve asked, her voice still calm. "You and I both know how this script goes. A young woman walks in, eager, impressed. You give her attention, a few long meetings, a compliment too many. She confuses your interest for something more and you never bother to correct her."
"Careful," he said softly.
"Why? You don't like mirrors?"
Tina felt the tension coil tighter with every word. She wasn't sure whether to leave or stay, whether she was part of the conversation or merely its excuse.
"Genevieve," Matthew said finally, quieter now. "You came here for business. Let's not turn this into something it's not."
"Oh, I think it's exactly what it looks like."
"And what does it look like?" he challenged.
Her eyes flicked toward Tina again. "It looks like history repeating itself."
Matthew leaned back, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You think every woman who walks into this office is another story about us?"
"No," she said. "I think every woman who walks into this office reminds you of the one story you never finished."
For a second, silence. Even the hum of the city outside seemed to pause.
Tina's pen rolled off her notebook and clattered against the floor.
She bent to pick it up, cheeks burning. "Sorry"
"It's fine," Matthew said, but his tone was distant now, distracted.
Genevieve stood slowly, smoothing her jacket. "You always did hate endings, Matthew. That's why you keep rewriting them with someone new."
"Don't twist this," he said, his voice low. "You walked out, remember?"
"I did," she agreed. "And every woman after me was your way of pretending I didn't."
The air between them crackled. Tina felt invisible and exposed at once a spectator in something that felt dangerously personal.
Genevieve gathered her purse, her movements graceful but edged. "I'll have my lawyers send the paperwork about my shares."
Matthew rose. "You're seriously doing this?"
"Yes."
"You're just going to sell and walk away from everything we built?"
Her gaze softened for the first time but only slightly. "You and I both know I walked away long ago. I'm only finishing the paperwork now."
She turned toward the door.
"Genevieve."
She stopped, one hand on the handle.
"Tell me something," he said, quieter now. "Do you actually believe I've changed that little?"
She hesitated. Then, without looking back: "I believe some men never change at all."
The door opened, and the soft echo of her heels trailed away down the corridor.
Silence followed.
Tina waited, unsure if she should speak.
Matthew finally exhaled, rubbing his temples. "People from the past," he said, half to himself. "They have a way of showing up when the future starts to look promising."
Tina hesitated. "She seemed... upset."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Genevieve's always been upset. It's her natural state."
"Was she your" Tina stopped herself. "Sorry. That's not my place."
"It's fine," he said, lowering himself into his chair again. "She was my business partner. Once. And more than that, for a time. But the problem with old fires is that even when they burn out, the ashes still stain."
Tina nodded, unsure what to say. She looked at him really looked and saw the faint fatigue behind the charm, the lines of regret that success couldn't quite erase.
"I should probably get back to the reports," she said quietly.
"Yes," he replied, his tone soft again. "And Miss Morgan?"
She turned at the door.
"Don't let people like Genevieve make you question your place here. You earned that desk."
She smiled faintly. "Thank you, sir."
But as she stepped back into the hallway, she couldn't shake the feeling that Genevieve's words had carved something into the room something sharp, invisible, and real.
From behind the glass, Matthew watched her go, his expression unreadable.
Then he turned to the window, eyes following the fading reflection of white heels disappearing into the city below.