Chapter 9 THE BREAKING POINT.

CHAPTER NINE- THE BREAKING POINT ~ MICHEAL'S POV ~ I had just returned from visiting my dad, who'd finally come back from his long business trip. With work looming tomorrow-and knowing I'd already been away for two days-I figured it was best to head home and get some rest.

That's when I saw her. She was walking alone, her shoulders slightly hunched, her expression lost in thought. There was a sadness in her eyes that tugged at something deep inside me. Part of me wanted to keep driving, to let the moment pass-but another part, the stronger one, couldn't let her go unnoticed.

After a moment of hesitation, I tapped the horn gently. She turned toward me.

"Good evening, Mr. Michael," she said, offering a soft smile that could melt steel.

That smile-I swear I could lose myself in it.

"Evening, Lucy."

"What are you doing here, sir? Do you live around here?"

"No, I just came to visit my dad. He's back in town now."

"That explains why you've been missing from work," she said with a playful glint in her eyes.

"You noticed," I replied, holding her gaze for a beat longer than I should've. "Heading somewhere? Need a ride?" I asked, reaching to open the door for her, hoping-just a little-that she'd say yes.

"No, I just came out for a walk. I'll be heading back in soon," she said, standing straighter, her voice light but distant.

"Alright... I'll see you at work tomorrow, then," I said, trying to hide my disappointment as I slowly turned the wheel and pulled away.

But I couldn't stop looking at the side mirror. There she was-walking back, her figure shrinking with distance, but growing larger in my thoughts.

I've had feelings for Lucy ever since I was reassigned to manage the company. Her determination, her grace, the way she pours herself into everything she does-it all drew me to her. And then I found out she was with Dave. That changed everything. I tried to bury what I felt, telling myself it was pointless.

But now... I can't. I think about her all the time. I can't pretend anymore. I have to find a way to tell her how I feel.

The next morning, I got ready for work. We had an important meeting scheduled today, and I couldn't afford to miss it-not after being absent for two days.

When I arrived, the office was already buzzing with quiet tension. Everyone turned toward me. "Good morning, sir," they greeted in near unison.

"In the next thirty minutes, the meeting will begin. Please get prepared," I said, and then headed straight to my office.

There was a stiffness in the air-like everyone was holding their breath around me. I never understood why they seemed so afraid. This wasn't even my strict side yet.

Thirty minutes later, the team gathered in the conference room. Everyone settled down quickly, eyes fixed forward. Mrs. Cole handed over the proposal documents as I took my seat at the head of the table.

"Let's begin," I said, flipping through the pages. "This project is based on Mrs. Cole's proposal, correct?"

"Yes, sir," she replied confidently. She stood and walked to the projector, clicking through slides as she explained the key points of the proposal. Everything was moving smoothly until something caught my attention.

"Wait, Mrs. Cole," I interrupted. "Shouldn't the materials come before the sampling techniques? That's the logical flow, isn't it? And here-in my copy-page three lists the ingredients, but according to the table of contents, that's supposed to be on page five."

Mr. Peter suddenly raised his voice. "I told you to give him the corrected version, didn't I?"

Mrs. Cole looked flustered. "Oh no-I'm terribly sorry, sir. It seems I handed you the draft Mr. Peter had already rejected."

Mr. Peter stood and handed me a different copy. "Here, sir. This is the corrected version."

"Wait," I said, holding both versions and looking between them. My voice turned calm but sharp. "Mrs. Cole, are you saying this version was rejected?"

"Yes, sir," she admitted. "I submitted it to Mr. Peter for review, and he turned it down."

I shifted my gaze to Mr. Peter. "Then tell me, Mr. Peter-why did you reject her original proposal?"

There was a beat of silence. I wasn't just asking out of protocol-I wanted to hear his reasoning. Because something felt off.

"B-Because... she didn't get it right," he stammered. "The first proposal was a full of things she found online, so I rejected it and asked her to rewrite it. The new version wasn't bad, so I approved it," he added confidently.

"You mean to tell me you reviewed this?" I said, placing both copies in front of him. "The previous and current versions are exactly the same. Did you even read her proposal before deciding to reject or approve it?"

My voice began to rise with anger. I saw him trembling.

"I'm sorry, sir," he muttered, looking down in shame.

"Mr. Peter, I least expected this from you," I said, glaring at him. "From this moment on, all proposals are to be brought directly to me. There's no need for Mr. Peter's approval."

Turning to him sharply, I added, "And as for you, meet me in my office. Now."

With that, I stood and left the meeting room. "This meeting is adjourned."

I walked briskly to my office, the sound of my footsteps echoing with each step.

Moments later, Mr. Peter entered, closing the door quietly behind him. He stood stiffly, eyes lowered, clearly dreading what was coming.

"Sit," I said firmly, not bothering to mask my disappointment. He obeyed silently. "I'm not just angry because you failed to read a proposal," I began, my tone cold and controlled. "I'm angry because you lied. You passed off incompetence as judgment."

His head snapped up. "Sir, I didn't-"

"Don't," I cut him off. "You've been playing politics in this office for too long."

"Sir, please," he pleaded, panic creeping into his voice. "It won't happen again-"

"I don't know if I can trust you, Peter," I said flatly. "And I can't afford to have someone in leadership who plays favorites instead of making fair, professional decisions. Consider this your final warning and you've been given a two weeks suspension. Please leave the office building immediately."

The color drained from his face. He stood up slowly, clearly trying to process the words, but I had already turned away, dismissing him without another glance. He left in silence. As I sat back in my chair, I let out a deep breath.

I watched as Mr. Peter left the company building. From the looks on everyone's faces, I could tell there was a sense of relief-finally, he had been held accountable.

The rest of the day was busy; everyone returned to their tasks, taking client calls and wrapping up reports. By 6:30 p.m., it was officially closing time.

"Good work, everyone. Let's call it a day and head home," I said as I stepped out of my office. It was as if they'd all been waiting for the signal. As soon as I spoke, they grabbed their bags and left in a hurry.

My eyes followed Lucy. She was clearly trying to avoid Dave. I saw her slip out quickly, pretending not to hear him as he called after her. When he followed, she entered into the restroom-probably to hide. I knew I had to help her. I stayed back in the office, watching Dave linger near the elevator.

To get him to leave, I casually said, "Still have some unfinished work? Aren't you heading home?"

"Oh, I'm on my way down now," he replied, then stepped into the elevator.

About twenty minutes later, Lucy finally emerged from the restroom, cautiously peeking out as if to check if the coast was clear. "Looking for someone?" I asked gently.

"Oh no, sir. I was just about to leave," she said, clearly startled. I could hear the fear and hesitation in her voice. "What about you, sir?"

"I had something to take care of, so I stayed back a bit," I replied, not wanting her to know I'd been waiting for her.

We walked toward the elevator together, and I could still sense her unease. "I'm heading out now. I can give you a ride home," I offered. When I saw the refusal already forming on her lips, I added, "I have a quick errand to run around your area anyway-it's no trouble."

She hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. "Okay, sir. Thank you."

We reached the parking lot, and I spotted Dave still hanging around.

Without saying a word, I quickly positioned myself so he wouldn't see her, then opened the passenger-side door for her to get in. Once she was seated, I walked around and got into the driver's seat.

As I started the engine, I noticed her ducking lightly, trying to stay out of sight. "He can't see you," I said. "The windows are tinted."

She looked at me, surprised. "How did you know I was avoiding him, s-sir?"

"I told you earlier, Lucy," I said with a soft smile.

"You're easy to read."

She smiled back, more relaxed this time. "Thank you, sir."

I paused before asking, "Can I ask why you're avoiding him? Are you two... fighting? Sorry if I'm asking personal questions"

Lucy hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her bag. "It's... complicated," she said quietly, looking out the window. "I just don't want to talk to him right now." I nodded, not pressing further.

"That's fair. You don't have to explain anything you're not ready to."

She looked over at me, surprised by the lack of pressure. "Thank you for understanding. Most people would pry."

"I'm not most people," I said with a light chuckle, hoping to ease her nerves. "But if you ever do feel like talking, I'm around."

She smiled again, this time with a bit more warmth. "That means a lot, sir."

"You can drop the 'sir' when it's just the two of us. Michael is fine."

"Okay... Michael," she said slowly, trying it out.

The car settled into a comfortable silence after that, the city lights casting a soft glow as we drove. I glanced at her briefly-her posture was more relaxed now, and I could tell that, even if she wasn't ready to open up completely, a wall had started to come down. And for now, that was enough.

Just as we turned onto her street, Lucy's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, and in an instant, her whole mood changed. The warmth in her face vanished, replaced by a look of tension and unease. I noticed immediately.

"Everything alright?" I asked, keeping my tone light but concerned. She didn't respond right away. Instead, she locked her phone, clutching it tightly in her hand as if trying to keep it from shaking.

A moment passed in silence, then she murmured, "Thank you for the ride," and reached for the door handle.

"Lucy, wait-did something happen?" I asked gently.

But she had already stepped out, avoiding eye contact. "Goodnight, sir," she said, closing the door behind her.

I watched her walk quickly toward her building, her shoulders tense, her steps hurried. My hands stayed on the wheel, unmoving.

Whatever that message was... it had clearly shaken her.

And now I was left sitting in the car, wondering what had just happened.

And I had no idea what it was.