No Rules to the Game

"Rachael!" came the shrill voice of her supervisor from the doorway. Claudia stood there, arms crossed, a scowl etched on her face.

"Need I remind you, I need those reports today!" Claudia snapped.

Rachael glanced at the pile of files she was working on, then back at Claudia. "I'm almost done, just a few more to go."

Claudia's eyes narrowed. "Oh, the silly excuses, Rachael. I gave you those files four hours ago. The whole department is waiting for you. You're a liability if you can't even finish simple tasks."

Rachael's chest tightened at the sting in her words, but she nodded. "I'll finish up and bring them to you."

Claudia didn't wait for a response. She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving Rachael to finish her task.

As Rachael continued sorting the papers, she couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized. It wasn't just that Claudia was hard to please; it was that everything she did seemed to be an opportunity for criticism. If she worked too fast, she was "rushing through things"; if she worked too slowly, she was "incompetent." It was a lose-lose situation.

Claudia was in her early thirties, sharp-tongued, and far too quick to remind Rachael of her place in the pecking order. Her bright red lipstick always made a statement in the department, like that one popular girl in high school.

Rachael swiftly ran her hands through her luscious brunette hair, grabbed a hairband from her desk, and put her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of the way.

The fluorescent lights above buzzed incessantly as she flipped through yet another set of old reports. Rachael wasn't even sure why they needed to be filed; half of them were outdated and irrelevant. But that wasn't her job to question. She was just an intern, after all, and "interns didn't ask questions."

This was probably the worst week she had ever had to get through. She had never imagined it would be like this-the long hours, the repetitive tasks, the constant feeling of being invisible. As an intern at Blackwood Enterprises, she had pictured herself working alongside brilliant minds, contributing to big projects, and making connections that would catapult her career forward. Instead, she was trapped in a small, stuffy mailroom at the heart of the company, sorting through a mountain of files and barely getting a thank you.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up to read at least two of the million notifications she had gotten all day. She hadn't even dropped the phone when Peter's call came in.

Rachael had been seeing Peter for the past month now. Before then, she hadn't felt anything for anybody since Ethan ditched her five years ago.

Peter was a breath of fresh air-her dream man: quiet, affectionate, handsome, rich, funny. What more could a girl want? He had it all, and to her, he was the perfect boyfriend.

"Hey..." Peter said, clearly out of breath.

"Hey, Peter... I'm still at work, and I'll get my ass kicked if I'm not done with this in the next thirty minutes. Is everything okay? Why are you panting?" she whispered.

"Yeah, you seem pretty busy, and I'm busy too, so, um..." He paused.

"Oh my God." He let out a slight muffled moan.

"Why don't we reschedule our date tonight, my love? To some other time convenient for the both of us."

The line disconnected before Rachael could say another word.

Rachael was confused. She was a hundred percent sure of what just happened, but she was trying so hard not to pay attention to whatever it was.

She quickly stacked the files into multiple folders and took them to Claudia's office for her to examine the multiple hours of sweat and hard work.

Claudia examined her work with a look of distaste.

"Do you think anyone will take you seriously if you keep this up?"

Rachael bit her lip, feeling the familiar sting of humiliation. "I just-"

Claudia cut her off, waving a hand dismissively. "Just what? You don't have time to 'just.' You're not here to waste time. You're here to prove you belong."

Rachael nodded, looking down at her shoes, hoping Claudia would tell her to leave. But the woman wasn't done.

"Tell me, Rachael," Claudia continued, her tone dripping with condescension, "what exactly makes you think you're cut out for this? Do you really think you'll be hired after your internship ends?"

Rachael's throat tightened, but she forced a smile. "I'm trying my best."

"Your best?" Claudia leaned forward, her voice lowering to a mocking whisper. "Is your best really what I'm seeing? Because I'm not impressed."

She stood up suddenly, causing Rachael to flinch. "You know what? Maybe sooner or later, I'm going to tell HR that you've been slacking off. Maybe then you'll finally understand what it means to actually work here."

Rachael froze, her face burning with embarrassment. But before she could speak, Rachael was dismissed, leaving her with the bitter taste of defeat in her mouth.

By the time the clock hit 6 PM, Rachael was more than ready to leave. She grabbed her bag and headed for the elevator, already dreading the thought of doing it all again tomorrow.

Her body ached from the long hours spent sorting files, her mind drained from the endless cycle of criticism, and the thought of returning to her small apartment to another lonely evening felt suffocating.

As the doors closed and the elevator began its descent, Rachael's phone buzzed in her pocket.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She thought she got a message from Ethan, the boy who had disappeared from her life after high school.

But it was just a notification from his Instagram page.

She hesitated for a moment, staring at his name on the screen. Ethan hadn't even tried to stay in touch after graduation. She was the one stalking his social media to know what was going on in his life. She felt like a psycho ex.

Taking a deep breath, she swiped the screen to lock her phone.

The elevator suddenly dinged, announcing her arrival at the ground floor. The doors slid open, and she stepped out of the elevator, her breath shallow. Just as she was heading toward the exit, four men in suits and shades surrounded the elevator.

"They look like bodyguards, but for whom?" she muttered to herself.

As if on cue, another man stepped into the building, but with a woman alongside. He was tall, fit, and muscular. Everyone at the reception was trying to get a good look at his face, but he had a cap and a facemask on, and kept his head down all the way to the elevator.

The girl accompanying him, on the other hand, was world-famous model Ashley Brooke. She was one of the most popular Canadian models, with striking and truly remarkable features. She was in her early twenties. Her blonde hair gave her a certain glow, and her green eyes glistened if you stared at them for just long enough.

Rachael was too busy analyzing the strangers to realize they were heading straight for her direction, and she was in the way.

One of the security guards quickly pushed her by the shoulder, so hard that she lost her balance and fell.

Rachael was trying to get back up when they went past. She was at an angle where she managed to catch a glimpse of the man everybody was guarding. He looked very familiar, but she couldn't exactly point out how. His face had a perfect structure, well-defined jawline, hazel eyes that changed to honey brown when the sun reflected on them. The tips of his curly hair poked out from beneath the cap, and his caramel skin was flawless.

He caught her stealing glances at him, but he was indifferent and just kept heading towards the elevator, while his companion followed very quickly, tightening her hands around his arm and slightly tilting her head to rest on his upper arm.

"What a beautiful way to get off work-right on the floor," Rachael thought to herself as she dusted her shirt while trying to regain her balance.

"I don't think today can get any worse," she muttered under her breath. She got into her car and opened her phone to finally read some of her messages. She saw one from her father that had been sent three hours ago. Her eyes softened, and she immediately started the car in panic and rushed to the hospital.