Mark waved his hand. “It’s fine, mate. Just be careful with the donors. A billionaire is far more important to this place than a young one like you.”
“Yeah… thank you.”
Mark gave me one last look—something halfway between sympathetic and amused—before pushing through the service door and disappearing back toward the galleries.
“A billionaire is far more important to this place than a young one like you.”
Message received.
I exhaled slowly and rubbed my hands down the front of my uniform like I could smooth out the lingering anxiety.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “Stop being weird. Get it together.”
I grabbed the clipboard, pushed the quarantine door open, and stepped back into the main service corridor.
The shift from the back rooms to the public galleries always felt like surfacing from underwater. Sound rushed in first—voices echoing across the high ceilings, the excited squeals of kids pointing at tanks, the low murmur of adults reading the placards.
Light followed next—brighter and bluer.
It didn’t take long to reach the jellies.
The main tank curved up from floor to ceiling, a tall cylinder of softly glowing water where dozens of moon jellies drifted in slow, hypnotic pulses. Their translucent bells caught the soft purple lighting, trailing delicate ribbons behind them like ghostly flowers opening and closing in the tide.
I stepped up to the edge of the tank and rested my clipboard against the rail.
Just act normal.
You work here.
No big deal.
The jellies continued to move lazily through the water, and I watched them for a minute, then another.
My brain, unfortunately, refused to cooperate.
What if he’s noticed you hiding from him?
What if Mark’s right and you’ve already pissed him off?
What if he complains to the director?
Great job, Cove. Four months in and you’re already offending the guy who paid for half the building.
I sucked in a ragged breath, willing the sting behind my eyes to fade away. Somewhere behind me, a group of school kids moved past toward the shark tunnel while my thoughts kept spiraling.
What would I do if the aquarium didn’t want to keep me?
Moving here, I’d just sort of assumed that they would. I hadn’t thought about the what-ifs.
“These are Aurelia aurita.” The voice came from beside me.
I jumped.
Actually jumped.
My entire body jerked as if shocked, and the clipboard nearly slipped out of my hands.
“Oh—!”
