Chapter 22: The Unraveling Thread

Chapter 22: The Unraveling Thread
The office door swung open without a knock.

“Cole!” Chloe’s voice came sharp, almost cheerful, before she even stepped inside. Then she froze. Her eyes landed on them, Emma sitting at his desk with papers scattered across the surface, Cole standing right behind her chair, leaning in close.

Chloe’s face shifted fast. Her smile faltered, her brows pinched together, and her eyes nar
rowed.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Emma shot up from her chair like she’d been caught doing something wrong. “We’re working.”

Chloe cut her off, her gaze snapping to her like a knife. “At this hour?”

Emma felt her face go hot. “There’s a deadline. We’re just..”

“Work doesn’t end at five,” Cole said smoothly, straightening up. His voice carried that calm authority that made it hard to argue with him.

Chloe’s heels clicked as she stepped fully into the office, the sound echoing across the quiet room. She looked at Cole, then at Emma, then back again. Her smile came back, but this time it was tight, forced.

“I see,” she said slowly. “And you needed her for this?”

“Yes,” Cole said flatly, leaving no room for argument.

Emma glanced at him, startled by how quick he answered. Chloe’s eyes narrowed more.

“Funny,” Chloe said, tilting her head. “You’ve never needed anyone before.”

Emma’s throat closed up. She knew Chloe wasn’t just making conversation. Every word was aimed directly at her.

“I should go..” Emma started, desperate to escape the weight of their stares.

“You’ll stay,” Cole interrupted firmly.

The words landed like a strike. The air shifted instantly.

Chloe’s lips parted, caught between anger and disbelief. Emma froze, her pulse racing, her legs heavy.

Nobody spoke for several long seconds. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

Chloe finally laughed, the sound sharp. “Well. Isn’t that interesting.”

Emma swallowed hard. “It’s really nothing, I…”

“Quiet,” Chloe snapped, her eyes flicking to her with open dislike. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Emma’s mouth shut, her chest tight.

Cole’s voice dropped lower. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Chloe turned to him, eyebrows rising. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Cole said.

Emma’s eyes widened. She had never heard him take her side so directly before. Chloe, however, looked like she’d just been slapped.

“You’re defending her now?” Chloe asked, her tone dripping with accusation.

“I’m setting boundaries,” Cole corrected calmly.

“Boundaries?” Chloe repeated, almost laughing. “That’s rich. You, of all people, talking about boundaries."

She doesn’t belong here

Emma’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I’m just doing my job.”

Chloe swung her gaze back to her. “You don’t even know what your job is, do you? You’re just here because he..”

“Enough,” Cole cut in, his tone sharp this time.

The room went still.

Chloe blinked at him, stunned by the edge in his voice. “Cole.”

“I said enough,” he repeated. “If you have business here, speak. Otherwise, leave.”

Chloe’s jaw tightened. She glanced at Emma again, her eyes full of dislike, before turning back to him."

“You’ve changed,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what she’s doing to you, but it’s not good.”

Cole didn’t respond. He just stared at her, calm, collected, unreadable.

The silence stretched again, heavier this time.

Chloe shook her head slowly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She turned on her heel and walked out, her heels clicking until the door shut behind her with a sharp thud.

Emma let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The room felt ten times bigger now, but no lighter.

“That was…” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “That was awful.”

Emma stood frozen. “She hates me. She really hates me.”

“She hates anyone close to me,” Cole said simply, his tone flat.

Emma’s heart skipped. “Close to you? I’m not..” She cut herself off, realizing how her words might sound. “I just work here.”

Cole looked at her finally, his expression calm but sharp. “And yet she sees you as a threat.”

Emma shook her head quickly. “That’s not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was,” he replied.

Emma’s chest rose and fell, her pulse still racing from the scene. “This is going to get worse, isn’t it?”

Cole didn’t answer.

A few days later, Emma was overworking again. By eight in the evening, she was knee-deep in papers. Three pens were scattered across her desk, one for notes, one for marking errors, and one that didn’t even work anymore, but she kept it anyway. She was highlighting, circling, and scribbling things down like her life depended on it.

The cleaning staff moved through the floor, rolling their carts and vacuuming. One of the janitors paused when he noticed her still sitting there.

“You’re still here?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” Emma said, forcing a smile.

“Boss making you work overtime?”

“Something like that.”

He shook his head. “Don’t stay too long. Lights shut off automatically around ten.”

“Got it,” she replied.

He moved on, and Emma bent back over the papers.

By ten, the building was silent. The janitors had finished, and she was the only one left on the entire floor. The low hum of the air conditioner was the only sound. Her eyes burned from staring at so much text, but she pushed herself to keep going.

"Why did I agree to this job?” she muttered, flipping another page.

She leaned back, stretched her arms until her shoulders cracked, then dropped forward again. That’s when something caught her eye.

It was a contract for a smaller company, a supplier. Nothing too important at first glance. But at the bottom of the page, in one of the reference sections, a name stood out.

Her old name.

Emma’s hand froze.

She leaned closer, reading it again to be sure it wasn't a mistake. There it was, printed neatly in black ink, buried in the fine print as though it belonged there.

Her chest tightened.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

She stared at the page, blinking hard, hoping she was imagining things. But her eyes weren’t playing tricks. Her old name sat right there, in the middle of a contract that had nothing to do with her.

Her pulse hammered in her ears.

“No, no, no,” she muttered under her breath. “This can’t be happening.”

Emma sat at her desk with the contracts open in front of her, her eyes moving back and forth across the same paragraph over and over. No matter how many times she read it, the words didn’t change. Her old name was right there, printed in black ink, as if it belonged. She felt her stomach twist.

She called Tessa and she picked up the phone immediately.

“Hey,” Tessa’s voice came from her phone speaker. She had it on a call.

“Hey,” Emma muttered.

“You sound dead,” Tessa said. “What’s wrong?”

Emma leaned her head into her hand, whispering even though she was alone. “I found something. It’s bad.”

“What kind of bad
“My old name. It’s in these contracts.”

There was silence for a moment, then Tessa spoke again, slower this time. “Wait. You mean the name you don’t use anymore? The one you told me was buried and gone?”