Joannie Huffmister stood in front of her desk, arms crossed and toe tapping.The director of human resources—nicknamed the Grim Reaper for good reason—rarely ventured out of her office unless someone was about to be fired.
And now she was here.Looking ather.
Jemma pushed down the instant jolt of unease.Joannie wasn’t here for her.Not today.
Probably.
Still, Jemma hated that the woman had evenaskedif Mark was available.Logical, sure—Mark had insisted Jemma work from the desk just outside his office, like some kind of obedient little secretary.
Never mind that she’d been hired as a business analyst.
Never mind the four years she’d spent earning a degree in business management, or the marketing internship she’d juggled on weekends.Never mind that she’d once handled million-dollar projections and helped turn a startup into a national brand.
None of that mattered now.Not after what happened.
“He’s free,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm and even as she shoved down the urge to say something snide.Something honest.
Joannie nodded sharply, already turning toward the office door.But before she disappeared into Mark’s chaos-laden lair, she paused just long enough to snap, “Hold his calls.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Jemma rolled her eyes.Mark never let anyone hold his calls.He didn’t trust his own staff to take a message, much less filter his conversations.Every call went straight to his personal line.It was probably a good thing—because if Jemma ever got her hands on real proof of what she suspected Mark was up to, she might not hesitate to go to the authorities.
But for now, she typed.She smiled.She played the part.
Finally, five o’clock hit.A small mercy.
In another life, at another job, she would’ve stayed late, fueled by purpose and ambition.But that was before.That was when her work had mattered.When she’d been part of something real.
Back then, she'd woken up hungry for the day.Hungry to learn.Hungry to impresshim.
But that chapter was closed now—locked, sealed, and burned.
She retrieved her phone from the drawer and blinked at the string of missed calls and unread messages.Several were from Jasper.
Her stomach tightened.
She pulled her purse from the bottom drawer, exchanging it for her laptop before locking the drawer again, and stepped into the hallway.The air had cooled, and outside the windows, thick clouds were rolling in.
Jemma pressed Jasper’s number and lifted the phone to her ear as she made her way toward the subway station.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, buddy.What’s up?”
Jasper was sixteen now—technically still a kid, but his attitude had changed dramatically over the past several months.If he continued with this attitude, his grades would be impacted.His sarcasm had turned mean.And lately, silence had replaced their usual teasing banter.
Still, Jemma adored him.There was an eleven-year gap between them, but he’d always been her shadow.Her soft-hearted sidekick.Her dance partner and cookie thief.The kid who once made her laugh so hard she snorted root beer out her nose.
“Jemm…” he groaned.There were tears in his voice.“I messed up.”
Her breath caught, but she kept moving.
“What happened?”she asked, lowering her voice and her head as she merged with the sea of commuters.
“He didn’t call?”
She blinked at the question.“Who?”
