chapter 18

Anna's POV

The shift in my colleagues' behaviour was subtle at first—a hesitant pause in conversations as I entered a room, awkward smiles where there used to be casual fun.

By lunchtime, it was impossible to ignore. The whispers followed me, just out of earshot, and the knowing glances stung more than outright confrontation would have.

It was Brenda who confirmed my suspicions with a strained attempt at small talk. “You know how offices are,” she said, her tone too casual. “People love a bit of gossip.”

I managed a smile and nodded, but my appetite vanished. This was what I wanted to avoid.

The hostility came from unexpected corners: a terse email from a colleague who usually flooded my inbox with jokes; a project lead suddenly too busy to review my contributions. Others were painfully polite, treating me like a fragile ornament they were afraid to break. Those ones I hated the most.

Despite all this, I kept my focus on my work, determined not to let the unease get to me. But the undercurrent of judgment was exhausting.

As the day wore on, I caught Dorian’s assistant, Brenda watching me. Her expression was unreadable, but I had a feeling she felt for me and wanted me to know that she was on my side.

When I returned to my desk, an internal memo had been circulated, reiterating the company’s stance on workplace relationships. My name wasn’t mentioned, but it was clear who it targeted.

I swallowed hard, gripping the edges of my desk. I had fought hard for my position, and I wasn’t about to let whispered doubts or icy stares undermine me. It was crazy that despite what Dorian said, they were still acting like this.

The sound of Brenda clearing her throat pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see her standing at the edge of my desk, crazy that I didn't even hear her walking up to me. It said a lot about how immersed I was in my thoughts.

“Got a minute?” she asked softly.

I nodded, pushing back my chair. We moved to a quiet corner near the break room, away from prying eyes and eager ears.

Brenda leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Look, Anna, I’ve been around long enough to know how these things play out. Office gossip dies down eventually, but until then, it can be... brutal.”

I nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.

“I just want you to know,” she said, her voice lowering, “you’re not alone in this. Dorian’s handling the board, and I’m keeping an eye on things. But for now, your best bet is to stay professional. Head down, work sharp. Let them see you for who you’ve always been—a damn good employee.”

Her words were blunt but comforting, a rare balance I hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I know,” Brenda replied, her gaze softening. “But it’s here. And you’ve got the strength to rise above it.”

I inhaled deeply, letting her words settle. Brenda gave a small nod before heading back to her desk, leaving me with a renewed sense of resolve.

They could judge me all they wanted, but I wasn’t going to let them define me.

By the next week, I thought things would start to settle down. Instead, the whispers returned, louder this time, and with sharper edges. Walking through the hallways felt like navigating a minefield, every conversation seeming to stop just as I approached.

The rumors had evolved. It wasn’t just about Dorian and me anymore—it was about my competence, my motives, my integrity. The idea that I’d earned my position through hard work was overshadowed by baseless assumptions.

Sitting at my desk, I stared at my screen, the cursor blinking on an unfinished report. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but my mind was elsewhere, consumed by the gnawing question: Is this worth it?

I thought about everything I’d sacrificed to get here—the late nights, the endless studying, the missed family events. I had fought for this career, clawed my way up in an industry that often seemed to dismiss women like me. But now, every achievement felt tainted by association, reduced to a footnote in someone else’s narrative.

A sharp knock on my desk pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. Brenda again, her expression concerned.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

I nodded automatically, but her gaze lingered, searching for the truth.

That evening, as I packed up to leave, the weight of it all hit me. If every step forward came with this much scrutiny, maybe it was time to reevaluate. I didn’t know if I had it in me to keep proving myself over and over again.

The following morning started like any other, but as I approached my desk, something was off. A large bouquet of vibrant red roses sat in the center of my workspace, commanding attention.

For a brief moment, I thought they might be from Dorian, a silent gesture to bolster my spirits. But as I stepped closer, my stomach dropped. A plain white card was nestled among the blooms, its message short and chilling:

"Careful, people are watching. You don’t belong here."

There was no signature, no clue as to who had sent it. My hands trembled as I read the words again, their implications sinking in. The flowers’ bright cheeriness felt almost mocking, a cruel contrast to the darkness of the note.

I glanced around the office, trying to gauge if anyone was watching. Most of my colleagues were busy with their screens, but a few cast furtive glances in my direction before quickly looking away. My heart pounded in my chest.

Brenda was at my side in seconds, her face tight with concern. “What is this?” she asked, plucking the card from my hand. Her eyes scanned the message, and I saw the anger flare in them.

“This is unacceptable,” she hissed. “We need to report this.”

I hesitated, a lump forming in my throat. “To who? HR? They’ll just brush it off as a prank.”

“No,” Brenda said firmly. “Not this time.”

Her conviction steadied me, but as I sat down, the unease lingered. Someone wanted me gone—and they weren’t afraid to make it personal.