The office was buzzing with activity, phones ringing, keyboards clacking, yet Amy felt like she was moving through fog. Every smile she gave felt forced, every polite nod rehearsed. Ethan, as always, had a way of making her feel invisible and exposed at the same time.
"Good morning, Amy," he said, passing by her desk. His words were casual, almost warm, but the tension in the line of his jaw and the sharpness in his eyes reminded her that nothing he did was innocent. She nodded, pretending to type, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
Even after all these years, after everything they had been through, Ethan still had power over her. She couldn't speak without thinking of how he might twist her words, couldn't act without considering his reaction. Love had long since become something she endured rather than something she cherished.
Across the room, Mirable smiled at Amy from behind a stack of files. Her expression was sweet, warm, comforting—but it carried an edge Amy couldn't quite place. She had always been close to her stepsister, trusted her guidance in subtle ways, but lately, Mirable's advice had a strange tone, nudging her to question things she had always taken for granted.
"You've been working too hard," Mirable said softly as Amy leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "Do you really think they appreciate everything you do?"
Amy blinked, startled. It was an innocent remark on the surface, but the words dug into something inside her. Her "parents," the ones who had raised her in a house that never felt like home, always dismissed her accomplishments, always demanded more, always reminded her she wasn't enough. Mirable's voice planted a seed, tiny but persistent, whispering doubt into her mind.
Amy shook her head, trying to push the thought away. She couldn't let herself be distracted—her life was already chaotic enough, juggling her work, Ethan, and the invisible chains that tied her to him. But Mirable lingered nearby, always helpful, always smiling, always saying exactly the right thing at the right time.
Her desk phone rang, and she jumped slightly. It was Ethan.
"Amy, can you come to my office?" His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. She felt her stomach tighten. Walking to his office felt like walking a tightrope over a pit she couldn't see.
As she entered, Ethan looked up from his paperwork, eyes sharp and assessing. "I noticed a few mistakes in the report you submitted," he said slowly, not angry, just… precise, as if every word weighed her down. "I'll need you to fix them by tomorrow morning."
Amy nodded, swallowing the bitterness that rose in her throat. Every word, every glance, every interaction with him was carefully calculated to remind her who held the power. She had loved him once. Now, she feared him—and hated herself for still caring.
Returning to her desk, Amy let out a quiet breath she didn't realize she was holding. Across the room, Mirable's eyes met hers briefly, sparkling in a way that seemed too knowing, too deliberate. Amy smiled faintly back, unaware of the quiet currents of manipulation pulling at her life, shaping her thoughts, and turning her against the very people she called family.