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Chapter 9 - CHAPTER NINE — SUMMONED

CHAPTER NINE — SUMMONED

The call came at exactly 8:02 a.m.

Amelia had just finished dressing — a soft beige blouse tucked into her only decent pair of slacks — when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen flashed "King's Corporation HR."

Her heart stopped.

For a full three seconds, she just stood there, staring at it, the taste of anxiety sharp in her throat. Lydia looked up from the kitchen counter, toast in one hand, coffee in the other.

"Are you gonna answer that, or just let your anxiety throw a house party?"

Amelia drew in a breath and swiped. "Hello?"

"Miss Jones?" The voice was clipped, professional. "This is HR from King's Corporation. Mr. King has requested your presence this morning at 10 a.m. sharp. Conference Room 21B."

She blinked. "Wait—Mr. King personally requested?"

"Yes, ma'am. Please confirm you'll attend."

Her pulse quickened. "I'll be there."

The line clicked off.

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Well. Either he's about to apologize… or bury you alive."

Amelia exhaled shakily. "Knowing him? Probably both."

---

By 9:45, she was standing in front of the glass skyscraper that shimmered against the Nova Heights skyline — King's Corporation in all its intimidating glory.

The revolving doors whooshed open, and the familiar scent of coffee, polished marble, and quiet power hit her like a memory she didn't want to relive.

Employees stole glances as she walked in. Whispers trailed behind her like perfume —

"That's her."

"The girl from the launch."

"He fired her, didn't he?"

She kept her chin up. She'd faced worse.

The elevator ride felt endless — sleek metal walls reflecting the unease in her eyes. When the doors finally opened on the 21st floor, she squared her shoulders and stepped out.

Mark , Christopher's assistant, was waiting outside the conference room. His expression softened when he saw her.

"Miss jones," he greeted politely. "Good to see you again."

"Wish it were under better circumstances," she said with a small, nervous smile.

He almost smiled back. "I'd say brace yourself. He's… not exactly in a patient mood today."

Of course he wasn't. Christopher King was never in a patient mood.

Mark pushed the door open. "He'll be with you shortly."

---

The room was all glass and silence — panoramic view of Nova Heights spread like a cityscape painting beneath the morning sun.

Amelia clasped her hands, trying not to let her nerves show. Then the door behind her clicked open.

Footsteps. Steady. Controlled.

Christopher King entered.

Impeccably dressed in a dark charcoal suit, jaw sharp as ever, his gaze cold enough to cut glass. He didn't speak immediately — just walked past her to the window, hands in his pockets, like a man calculating the temperature of the room before setting it on fire.

Finally, he turned.

"Miss Jones."

Her breath caught. His tone wasn't angry. It was worse — calm. Dangerous.

"Mr. King," she replied quietly. "You asked to see me?"

He gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Sit."

She obeyed, every instinct screaming to run.

He studied her for a long moment. "You disappeared rather quickly after the launch."

"I was suspended," she said evenly.

His eyes flickered. "By my order, yes. But I never said run."

She met his gaze. "I wasn't running, Mr. King. I was trying to survive the humiliation your company gave me."

For a second — just one — his expression faltered. Then the mask was back. "I see."

He placed a folder on the table and slid it toward her. "Do you recognize these?"

Inside were printed screenshots — security footage from the event. And in one frame, just as the glitch happened, a reflection of someone else near the control desk.

Her eyes widened. "That's not me."

"No," he said quietly. "It's not."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Which begs the question — who was it?"

"I—I don't know."

"I believe you."

Her head snapped up, startled. "You do?"

He gave a slight nod, eyes unreadable. "For now."

For now. The words felt like both mercy and warning.

He stood, buttoning his jacket. "You'll return to work tomorrow. Temporarily reinstated."

She blinked. "Just like that?"

"No." He paused at the door. "Not just like that. You'll be assisting me directly until we identify who tampered with the files."

Her stomach dropped. "You mean—work under you?"

He turned, one brow raised. "Is that going to be a problem, Miss Jones?"

She forced a smile she didn't feel. "Not at all, sir."

"Good." His gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat too long. "Be here by seven. Don't be late."

And with that, he left — leaving her sitting in the glass room, heart pounding, breath shallow.

She had her job back. But at what cost?

---

That evening, she called her aunt.

> Amelia: Aunt Chloe… I'm back at work.

Chloe: That's good news!

Amelia: I'm working directly under him.

Chloe: Oh. That kind of good news. Be careful, Amy. Men like him can twist your peace without even raising their voices.

In the background, she could hear the kids — Lily's laughter, Ethan arguing with Emily over a toy.

> Chloe: They're fine. They miss you, though.

Amelia: Tell them Mommy's fighting her way back. For them.

She hung up, staring out the window. The city lights below looked like a battlefield of stars.

She had no idea that tomorrow, the real war would begin — not with Clara, not with the board, but with the man who once ruined her life… and now owned her time.

---

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