Clara jolted awake, her heart racing as her alarm blinked furiously at her. She'd overslept, again. Cursing softly, she rushed through her morning routine. Every minute wasted felt like a countdown to disaster.
"See you later, Natasha," she called, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Natasha, pale and cocooned in a blanket, glanced up weakly.
"Don't forget your supplements," Clara added.
"Mhm," Natasha murmured, her eyes fluttering shut again.
As Clara dashed out, she could feel the seconds slipping away. The traffic outside was its usual mess. She tapped her fingers anxiously against the seat, urging the driver to take a shortcut. By the time she arrived, she was a solid thirty minutes late.
She slipped inside the building, her footsteps as light as a whisper. Relief washed over her when she made it to her desk unnoticed.
"Thirty minutes isn't too bad," she lied to herself, settling into her work.
For hours, she kept her eyes glued to her desk, trying to drown herself completely on her work. When lunchtime arrived, her stomach growled, but the memory of Mitchell's "friendship initiative" stopped her in her tracks. If she ran into him now, it would be awkward. She hated how he always seemed to unsettle her.
"Maybe if I stick to a route he doesn't usually take…" she muttered. Summoning her courage, she grabbed her bag and slipped out.
"Clara!"
Her pulse spiked at the familiar voice. She froze mid-step, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Hi, Mitchell..."
"Mitchell?" The sharp tone of annoyance made his heart sink. "It's Ashley."
Clara blinked, realization dawning. "Oh. Ashley. I'm sorry, I thought..."
"Thought it was Mitchell?" he interrupted, his voice tight. Jealousy simmered in his tone, unmistakable.
"No! I just...I was distracted," Clara stammered, her face flushing.
"You know what? Forget it," Ashley said, brushing past her. "I was just saying hello."
"Ashley, wait—!" But he didn't stop, leaving Clara standing awkwardly in the hallway.
"Great. Just great," she muttered. Deciding not to let the awkward encounter ruin her lunch, she made her way to the cafeteria.
The cafeteria buzzed with activity, staff chattering and clinking utensils filling the air. Clara chose a corner seat, far from prying eyes. As she ate, she kept her head low, unwilling to invite unwanted attention.
"Mind if I join you?"
Clara looked up, startled, and nearly choked. Sitting across from her, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, was Mitchell.
"This café is for staff," she blurted, still grappling with shock. "You're—you're not supposed to be here."
Mitchell shrugged, his gaze steady. "I'm not just sitting with anyone. I'm sitting with my friend."
Around them, the cafeteria grew quieter as whispers spread like wildfire.
"What's he doing here?"
"Clara? Really? Why would he sit with her?"
"She's one of those girls, isn't she? Acts sweet and innocent but aims high."
Clara's ears burned as the murmurs turned to cutting jabs. Her appetite vanished, replaced by a cold pit of dread. She risked a glance at Mitchell, who sat calmly, unfazed by the growing tension.
Then, to her horror, Mitchell rose. The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation.
"I hear you," Mitchell said, his voice slicing through the silence. "The whispers, the insults. Clara doesn't deserve your disdain. She's one of the kindest, most genuine people I've ever met. You all know about the accident that nearly cost me my life. What you don't know is that Clara and her grandmother are the reason I'm standing here today. So, yes, I'm here, in this cafeteria, with her. And if anyone dares to insult or bully her again, they'll have me to answer to."
With that, he returned to his seat, his expression composed but fierce. The cafeteria remained silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Clara stared at him, her face burning with embarrassment and something else she couldn't quite name.
"Why are you staring?" Mitchell asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I—I wasn't!" she stammered, looking away quickly.
"Good." He leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Now, eat. Defending you is the least I can do, as your friend."
She nodded numbly, picking at her food. "Thanks… for that."
"Anytime."
---
Meanwhile, Alexandro tapped his desk impatiently. The reports of Mitchell's cafeteria antics had reached him quickly, and they weren't sitting well.
"So he went down there," Alexandro mused, his tone laced with irritation. "All for her."
He pressed a button on his intercom.
"Ashley, bring Clara to my office."
"Sir, it's still lunch hour," Ashley replied, his voice cautious.
"And I didn't ask for your input. Bring her to me."
"Yes, sir."
Minutes later, Clara entered the imposing office, the door clicking shut behind her. Alexandro sat behind his desk, his expression a mask of cool control.
"Miss Wale," he began, his voice calm yet loaded with an undercurrent of menace.
"I hope you understand why I've called you here."
Clara stood straight, meeting his gaze. "I assume it's about the cafeteria."
"Correct." He rose, pacing slowly.
"My son is… impressionable. But let's be clear—his future lies with people of his caliber, not with the likes of you."
"Sir," Clara began, her voice steady, "if you have a problem, I suggest you address it with your son."
Alexandro's smile tightened. "This isn't a suggestion, Miss Wale. It's a warning. Whatever 'bond' you think you're forming with Mitchell, sever it. Now."
Clara felt her anger flare, her fists clenching at her sides. "With all due respect, sir, Mitchell's choices aren't mine to control. If you're worried about his decisions, talk to him."
Alexandro stopped in his tracks, his smile sharp and cold. "I see you're direct. Let me be just as clear: whatever bond you think you're forming with my son, it ends now."
Clara's hands tightened into fists at her sides. She bit back the surge of anger, reminding herself of the need for restraint. "Sir, I'm here to do my job, not to meddle in anyone's life. If Mitchell sees me as a friend, that's entirely his decision."
The calm defiance in her tone made Alexandro's expression harden. "You're a smart girl, Clara," he said slowly, his voice a menacing murmur. "But don't mistake smart for untouchable. Do not cross lines you shouldn't."
Her heart raced, but she refused to let him see her fear. "I understand, sir."
Alexandro studied her for a moment longer, the tension crackling between them. Finally, he dismissed her with a wave.
Clara turned on her heel, keeping her head high until she left the office. As soon as the door shut behind her, she exhaled shakily, her mind reeling.
He's trying to scare me.
Deep down, she knew his threats weren't empty, but she wasn't going to let fear dictate her actions. Not now, not ever.
Alexandro watched her leave, his jaw tightening. Something about her calm defiance unnerved him. He'd have to handle this more carefully than he anticipated.