Chapter 4 Call to Duty.

Over the past week, I've spent countless hours grappling with the proposition presented to me by Craig Winchester. The weight of it is suffocating, but I haven't spoken a word of it to anyone. My father likely assumes that I am working diligently, completely unaware that my thoughts have become consumed by this one decision. I did confide in Carlos, my best friend, though I didn't give him the full story. I couldn't bring myself to explain the depths of my hesitation, the gnawing uncertainty that has been eating away at me.

The truth is, I am torn. On one hand, I long to preserve my independence and steer clear of another domineering boss, someone who might seek to control my life. Yet, on the other hand, the reality of my financial situation looms ever larger. Mr. Smith's threat to withhold my livelihood has made it impossible to ignore the pressing need for income. He was insufferable, arrogant, and made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a precipice. But perhaps accepting Craig's offer would serve as a form of retribution against him-maybe that's what I need, a step back into power. A way to turn the tables.

As I sit in my dimly lit room, the ring of my phone breaks through my thoughts. There are missed calls from an unfamiliar number. I hesitate. My finger hovers over the screen, but I force myself to answer. I need to know who is trying to reach me.

"Hello?" I answer cautiously.

"Am I speaking with Blaire?" The voice is calm but carries an air of familiarity that I can't quite place.

"Yes, though I'm sure there are many people with the same name. You might've dialed the wrong number," I reply, trying to hide the unease creeping into my tone.

There's a brief silence, followed by a murmur of voices in the background. Then, the voice comes back, more confident now.

"Well, I hope this clears things up. The Blaire I'm looking for used to work as a barista at Jeff's Cafe until about a week ago. Her father is currently unwell..." he trails off.

My heart races at the mention of my father. I can feel the tension in my chest tighten, but I quickly regain my composure. I know better than to let this stranger sense my vulnerability.

"What is your purpose in contacting me?" I demand, the edge in my voice sharper than I intend.

"I believe I've reached the right person," he responds smoothly. "And from what I know, this Blaire has a certain... allure, a charm that surpasses even the finest coffee."

His flattery feels calculated, like he's playing a game. But there's something in the way he speaks that piques my curiosity.

"Your flattery doesn't sway me," I reply, holding firm, unwilling to show any weakness.

"Oh, but I think you might be surprised, Miss Blaire. We both know you're facing challenges. Allow me to help. Join GLAZE GLOBAL CORPS, and all your needs will be taken care of," he proposes, the words sliding out smoothly, like a well-rehearsed script.

I clench my jaw, trying to keep my composure. "And what are the terms? Does the CEO of GLAZE endorse these offers?" I ask, though I already know his answer.

"That's irrelevant," he responds, his tone devoid of any real concern. "I'm certain you have more pressing matters than the opinions of a CEO."

I sigh, rubbing my temples in frustration. "When do I begin?" I ask, resigned to the fact that I don't have much of a choice.

"I'll send a driver right away. In the meantime, make sure you leave a lasting impression-for both me and the CEO. Until we meet, Miss Blaire," he concludes, his voice taking on a finality that sends a chill down my spine.

The line goes dead, and I'm left in stunned silence. I'm already preparing myself for something I know I can't back out of.

Not long after, I hear a car horn blaring outside my apartment. How they obtained my address, I have no idea, but I can't waste time dwelling on it. I grab my bag, take one last look at the space I've called home, and step outside. The night air is cold against my skin as I approach the waiting vehicle. The driver steps out and opens the door for me, his manner polite but his eyes betraying no hint of emotion.

"Good evening, Miss Blaire. It is my pleasure to accompany you on this journey," he says as he settles behind the wheel and starts the engine.

"I won't ask how you know my name. It seems to be a recurring theme," I reply dryly, though my unease still lingers in the pit of my stomach.

"As you wish," he acknowledges, his voice gentle as he glances at me through the rearview mirror.

I can't help but ask, my voice barely above a whisper, "Where are we going?"

The words I receive next make my heart stop.

"We're headed home, Miss Blaire."

I swallow hard, my thoughts racing. "And where exactly is this 'home'?" I press, feeling my pulse quicken.

The driver turns in his seat, eyes meeting mine, and he delivers the one line that nearly causes my breath to catch.

"The Winchester Mansion."

I freeze. Every muscle in my body tenses, and my mind goes blank. The name sends a wave of nausea through me. I wanted to avoid this. I wanted to stay away. But now, there's no turning back.