Chapter 3

Sophia found me in the dusty, silent basement archives a week later.

She was dressed in a ridiculously expensive white suit, out of place among the rows of gray filing cabinets.

"Emily! There you are. William was so worried you wouldn't... adjust." Her smile was pure acid.

"I'm adjusting, Sophia."

"He asked me to check on you. He's very considerate, you know. He even said you could keep your internship, despite... everything."

A magnanimous gesture, no doubt after she'd ensured I was buried so deep I was no threat.

"That's very... Kent of him," I said, my voice flat.

"He just wants you to be grateful. And to remember your place."

My place. Inputting faded data from decades-old lawsuits into a clunky terminal.

I forced myself to say, "I appreciate the Kents' generosity." Anything to make her leave.

Her eyes gleamed. "Good. Now, there's a small matter. William mentioned a... project proposal you two discussed. Something about community legal aid? He found the file. He thinks it's best if it's... archived. Permanently."

My heart sank. That proposal was my baby. My one real attempt to do something good with my Kent Corp internship. It had nothing to do with William personally, but he'd seen an early draft, even offered a few surprisingly insightful comments. Before.

"He wants you to shred it. Personally. As a sign of your... loyalty."

She held out a thin folder. My proposal.

My hands trembled as I took it.

She gestured to an industrial shredder in the corner. "Go on."

Each page I fed into the machine felt like a piece of my soul. My ideas, my hopes, turned into meaningless strips.

Sophia watched, a satisfied smirk on her face.

When it was done, she nodded. "Excellent."

Later that week, William cornered me by the basement elevator.

"Heard you took care of that little project." His voice was casual, but his eyes were sharp.

"Yes, Mr. Kent."

He stepped closer. "There was also that research you did on the Harrison merger. My father's old notes. You had them, didn't you?"

I had. I'd found them misfiled, a historical curiosity. Nothing relevant to current work.

"I... I think so."

"Get them."

I retrieved the fragile, leather-bound journal. He took it from me, flipped through a few pages, then, without a word, tossed it into a nearby waste bin filled with coffee grounds and discarded papers.

"Old news," he said, looking directly at me. "Means nothing."

My breath hitched. Those notes were a piece of Kent Corp history, something a true legal scholar would cherish.

He saw the flicker of distress in my eyes.

"Don't get sentimental, Rose. It's just paper."

I felt a cold dread. They weren't just isolating me; they were erasing me.

Sophia's next move was more insidious.

I'd been informally mentoring a younger intern from a similar background, Maya. Helping her navigate the corporate maze, encouraging her. It was the one small, good thing I had left.

Sophia started inviting Maya to exclusive lunches, offering her "career advice."

Then, Maya's research project, one I'd helped her outline, was suddenly flagged for plagiarism.

Maya was devastated, terrified.

Sophia, oozing sympathy, suggested to William that perhaps I'd given Maya "poor guidance," or worse, had access to her files and...

William stormed down to the archives, his face a mask of fury.

"What the hell did you do to Maya's project?"

"Nothing! I was helping her!"

"Helping her get thrown out? She's saying you're the only other person who saw her draft!" Sophia, of course, had planted that seed.

I tried to defend myself, to protect Maya. "It's a misunderstanding. Her work is original. I can prove it."

William wasn't listening. He was too angry, too ready to believe the worst of me. Sophia had played him perfectly.