Chapter 38 The third floor Induction
The next morning, Cynthia stood at the front desk, heels tapping in irritation as she adjusted her jacket. Her lips curled in a tight smile when she saw Lotus and Joy approach.
Lotus walked in calm and composed, dressed in a clean, chic look. Joy followed behind, rocking a simple chocolate-toned dress, cat loafers, and a quirky cat-shaped purse.
Cynthia’s eyes swept over them with calculated disapproval. “Follow me,” she said, voice crisp.
She launched into the corporate tour with a mixture of forced hospitality and visible disdain. Each floor glittered with polish and power. The sixth floor was the empire’s crown jewel—executives only, complete with glass offices, private restrooms, and an in-house massage chair. The fifth floor housed upper management, including Cynthia herself and her carefully curated squad: Kelly, Derek, Sarah, Danell, and the error intern Ashley. Nicknamed “The Club,” it pulsed with ambition and aesthetic perfection.
The fourth floor was more functional sales reps and customer service units. The second floor was a luxury break area with a cafe, food court, and convenience store.
Then came the third floor.
Outdated cubicles. Flickering lights. Bland walls. The hum of tired printers filled the space.
The air carried a heaviness stale, hopeless, almost suffocating. People moved slowly, shoulders slumped, their faces dulled by routine. It was a floor that had forgotten what ambition felt like.
Cynthia walked them down a narrow aisle to a cramped office tucked behind a frosted glass wall. Two desks sat beneath a flickering light dingy glass partitions, cluttered piles of papers, folders, and binders stacked carelessly across the surface. The brown leather office chairs were worn thin, the edges cracked and faded with age.
“This’ll be your office,” Cynthia said flatly. “You can work in here.”
Joy blinked. “It’s… quaint.”
Lotus smiled thinly. “We’ve worked with less.”
The view from their office faced rows of lifeless cubicles where disengaged employees typed without looking up. The energy on this floor felt stagnant forgotten.
Cynthia clapped her hands, summoning everyone into the third-floor conference room. Shock rippled through the crowd. Executives never came down here.
As Lotus and Joy introduced themselves, curious stares met them. Cynthia’s assistant, Danell, whispered, “Nobody from the fifth floor ever talks to them.”
Afterward everyone went back to their cubical why Lotus and Joy stayed in the conference room.
Just then, Cynthia’s assistant appeared in the doorway a petite girl with hair in a tight bun, a nervous posture, and ink stains on her fingers. She adjusted the stack of folders in her arms before speaking.
“Um hi,” she said softly, almost tripping over her words. “I’m Ashly. Here are your folders… company benefits, product sheets, department phone lists, and, uh your ID badges.” She handed them over carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll need these to get into the building and, um, most of the restricted areas.”
Cynthia gave a dismissive nod. “Thank you, Ashly. That’ll be all.”
Ashly slipped out of the third-floor conference room after Cynthia’s meeting, her small frame half-swallowed by a stack of folders. She moved quietly, like she’d learned to do in an office where silence was safer than small talk. People mistook her timid tone for meekness—but that was fine with her. It made them underestimate her.
She took the back stairwell, her usual escape route—narrow, echoing, unguarded. Perfect for thinking.
Halfway up to the fifth floor, the sharp rhythm of heels broke the hush. She recognized that cadence instantly—practiced, performative.
“Oh!” a voice sang from above. “Didn’t see you there, sweetheart!”
Ashly looked up. Darlene was perched on the landing, all pastel polish and poise, the kind of woman who smiled with her teeth but not her eyes. Her badge gleamed under the fluorescent light: Administrative Assistant, Research & Development.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little stair climber!” Darlene trilled. “I’ve been looking for you all morning! Security said you always take the stairs—what dedication!”
Ashly smiled politely, breath even. “Guess I like the quiet.”
“Of course you do.” Darlene’s laugh was bright and brittle. “Some people thrive in quiet places. Makes it easier to… observe.”
Ashly tilted her head slightly. “That’s true.”
She didn’t miss the twitch at Darlene’s jaw when she said it.
From afar, Darlene was the perfect employee flawless posture, endless cheer, a “by-the-book” tyrant who quoted policy like it was gospel. The office “Karen” everyone tolerated because she got things done. But up close, Ashly could see it—the uneven eyeliner, the slight sheen of sweat breaking through foundation, the pulse fluttering a little too fast beneath the silk collar.
“I heard about your little audit work,” Darlene said sweetly. “Impressive. Not many of us get that kind of trust. Then again…” Her voice softened. “Trust can be dangerous, can’t it?”
Ashly met her gaze, calm and unreadable. “Depends who’s earning it.”
For a flicker of a second, Darlene’s smile faltered. Then her phone buzzed. She lifted it to her chest like she was hiding a secret. The screen flashed just long enough for Ashly’s quick eyes to register the text:
“I had a nice time but remember…get the drive. Ashly’s or Cynthia’s. Doesn’t matter which.”
When Darlene looked up again, Ashly’s expression hadn’t changed. Her voice remained soft, almost shy. “You, um, got plans later?”
Darlene blinked. “Oh—just work. You know how it is.”
Ashly nodded, eyes lowering to the perfectly polished phone Darlene was gripping too tightly. Her mind was already processing: the timestamp, the phrasing, the sender’s tone. She didn’t have to see the name to know what kind of person texted like that.
“I should go,” Ashly murmured. “Cynthia’s waiting.”
Darlene stepped aside, smile snapping back into place. “Of course. You always do what you’re told.”
Ashly brushed past, her steps light but deliberate. She could feel Darlene’s gaze on her back—watching, testing, waiting for her to flinch.
When she reached the next landing, Darlene’s voice floated after her, falsely bright:
“Oh, and Ashly? If anyone asks what you saw today… pretend you didn’t.”
The stairwell door slammed shut.
For a moment, silence.
Then Ashly’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
SECURITY ALERT: Unauthorized data transfer detected.
Source: Fifth Floor Access Point.
User: A. Turner.
Her fingers tightened around the folders. Her pulse didn’t spike—she’d trained herself for moments like this. She looked up at the door Darlene disappeared through, the faint scent of cologne and toner still hanging in the air.
Ashly exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as she pieced it together.
Her timid smile returned—but this time, it wasn’t fear. It was calculation.
To be continued…