Chapter 5: Unkind Feelings

Charlotte settled inside her office, with the colorful energy of the New York City skyline visible through the window. The city's excitement energized her, but the rush of her first day had left her thoughts muddled. As she flipped through the architectural designs on her desk, tidbits of office gossip caught her attention.

“Did you hear about the Westwood accusations?” a coworker whispered to another. “They still think the Kingsleys had something to do with Celestine’s kidnapping.”

Charlotte's ears perked up at the sound of the Westwood name. Kidnapping? She hadn't come across that topic in her research on the Kingsleys, which had mostly concentrated on their economic accomplishments and community service. Leaning back in her chair, she couldn't shake the impression that this was more than just casual gossip; it felt like a shadow lurking over her new job.

As she listened intently, fragments of conversation reached her ears. “The feud has been going on for years, but people still have questions,” one coworker said, shaking her head. “It’s like a never-ending drama.”

Curiosity swelled up within Charlotte. She was driven to learn more about the feud that had cast such a lengthy shadow over the Kingsleys. What happened to them? Why did the Westwoods charge the Kingsleys with kidnapping? Questions raced through her thoughts, distracting her from the plans laid out in front of her.

Charlotte decided to seek answers about the strange uncertainty surrounding both families. Jenna, Asher's assistant, was known for her kindness and lively smile, making her the ideal person to ask for advice. Charlotte approached her desk, her interest simmering below the surface.

“Hey, Jenna! Can we chat for a second?” Charlotte said, her friendly smile masking her growing apprehension.

Jenna looked up from her computer, her brow slightly furrowed. “Of course! What’s on your mind?” Her tone was open, inviting Charlotte to share.

“I overheard some talk about a feud between the Kingsleys and the Westwoods. They mentioned something about a kidnapping. What’s that all about?” Charlotte asked, leaning closer, her voice low.

Jenna paused, looking around to ensure they weren't being overheard. "It's a complicated story," she said, her gaze serious. "Celestine, the Westwood heiress, went missing several years ago. The Westwoods suspected the Kingsleys of organizing her kidnapping in order to eliminate competition."

Charlotte's eyes widened, and her pulse accelerated as she took in the information. "Wow, this is serious." Do you have any idea what happened to her?

Jenna leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a whisper. "In reality, nobody is sure. She disappeared without a trace, and the Kingsleys were directly to blame. Since then, there has been an intense conflict between the two parties as they both harbor resentment. For this reason, the Westwoods continue to feel that the Kingsleys are their main rivals."

Charlotte felt a chill run through her. “So, is it a touchy subject around here?” she asked, her mind racing.

“Definitely,” Jenna replied, a hint of concern in her voice. “You’ll want to be cautious if you bring it up. People have strong feelings about it, and it can get pretty heated.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Charlotte said, her mind swirling. She hadn’t realized that her family’s history was intertwined with the Kingsleys in such a dramatic way. “I’ll tread lightly.”

Jenna nodded, her expression softening. “You’re new, and I know it can be a lot to take in. Just focus on your work and keep your head down. That’s what really matters here.”

"That's right," Charlotte replied, while her mind kept going back to the conflict's consequences. Her days at Kingsley & Co. were shadowed by the weight of the Westwood name, which hung heavy.

Charlotte had a mixture of resolve and nervousness as she turned to leave. Celestine Westwood's kidnapping was a significant incident that impacted the relationships within the company, and it was not just a bit of office gossip.

As she turned to go, Charlotte was nervous but also determined. The kidnapping of Celestine Westwood was more than simply office gossip—it was a serious event that affected interpersonal interactions within the organization.

 

With her heart racing, Charlotte's footsteps echoed gently as she moved toward Asher's office. She hardly grasped the tragedy-filled tale, but there seemed to be a connection between it and Kingsley Corporation at its core. Her curiosity peaked, she needed answers, and she needed them from Asher.

She inhaled deeply and walked over to his office, where he was sitting behind his desk, engaged in paperwork. His chiseled face had been dimmed by the weak light, his brow furrowed in concentration. The way he appeared projected an intense and almost hypnotic quality; he was consistently concentrated and in control. Charlotte hesitated for a second, not sure if this was the proper move. Her worries were overruled, though, by the need to understand the guy behind the hard exterior, to bridge the distance between them.

“Asher?” she called softly, her voice tentative but steady as she stood in the doorway.

He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and irritation. The warmth from their earlier exchange seemed to have evaporated, replaced by the guarded, impenetrable man she’d first met. “What is it, Charlotte?” he replied briskly, his tone clipped, as if he had no time for interruptions.

Charlotte swallowed hard, nerves prickling at the back of her neck, but she pushed forward. “I was curious about the Westwood situation,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as she could, though her heart raced faster with each word. “I wanted to know… what really happened with Celestine?”

As soon as the name left her lips, she saw it—the flicker of tension that tightened Asher’s jaw, the way his posture stiffened. He furrowed his brow, his irritation more pronounced now, as if she had just crossed an invisible line. "What about it?" he asked, his voice low, holding back the clear reluctance to dive into a topic he wasn’t willing to touch.

Charlotte sensed the discomfort immediately, but she pressed on, determined to understand. “Just the history,” she continued, trying to keep her voice steady. “I want to know the truth—what really happened with her.”

With his arms crossed tightly over his chest, Asher leaned back in his chair, creating something as strong as the emotional wall that had suddenly grown between them. His eyes narrowed, annoyance flickering for a moment before hardening into a chilly gaze. With a harsh tone, he questioned, "Why are you asking about that? That’s none of your concern."

Charlotte felt her cheeks flush with shame from his frank remarks. This was hardly the kind of furious response she had expected, though looking back, she should have known better. However, her annoyance at being uninformed pushed her ahead. Her voice softened as she said, "I was just trying to understand. I'm not sure how to proceed with this conversation without making things worse."

With a cold firmness in his voice, Asher stated, "Understanding doesn't change anything." There's a reason this is a tough subject, Charlotte. You don't need an explanation from me.

The force of his comments took the breath out of her. It felt like an impact to the body. She began thinking of a reply, but she was having trouble coming up with the correct words. She eventually replied, her voice softer now, her confidence steadily falling apart, "I didn't mean to pry. "I was simply considering—"

"What was considered?" Asher cut him short, annoyance rising to the surface. That you might be able to assist? That somehow opening up past wounds would make things better? " His words felt like a criticism, and his tone was harsh. "Charlotte, this isn't a fairy tale."

The brutal reality of his words made her heart sink. His contempt buried the brilliant enthusiasm she had once had for the conversation, making her feel small and oppressive. "I merely wanted to learn more about you and the company in general," she remarked softly, her voice now almost distinguishable above a whisper. Her admission of fragility sat between them, unanswered.

For a split second, Asher's tone remained sharp, but his gaze softened. "Just concentrate on your work," he continued, sounding distant but having lost some of the malice in his voice. "That is the reason you are present. Spend less time worrying about things that don't affect you."

Dismissing her as if their talk had never taken place, he returned to his papers, and his lack of interest left a heavy mark on her chest.

As Charlotte stood there, she could feel the tension between them harden into a barrier she wasn't sure she would ever be able to cross. Even though he wasn't looking at her, she nodded as she swallowed back the lump in her throat. She muttered, more to herself than to him, "Right, naturally. I am sorry.

She turned on her heel and walked back to her desk without saying another word, each step felt heavier than the last. She had a nagging sense of regret in place of the hopeful air she had taken into the office that day. Her hands lingered over the architectural blueprints she had been so excited to work on as she sat down at her desk, but her thoughts were elsewhere, reliving the bitter tone of Asher's voice. She felt ridiculous for bringing it up and for assuming she could get beyond whatever obstacles Asher had so obviously placed. Celestine's disappearance and the kidnapping at Westwood were both far more complicated than she had ever anticipated.

She felt as though a heavy fog was hovering over her, blocking her view of the Kingsley Corporation and her role within it. Though she wasn't so sure now, she had assumed that knowing the past may help her understand the present. Charlotte let out a shaky breath and looked down at the plans in front of her. Her earlier day's excitement had vanished, and was replaced by a subdued melancholy. She regretted saying anything and stepping over that boundary. Asher, for all his fleeting softness, seemed farther away than ever, and the weight of the Westwood kidnapping weighed even more heavily on her shoulders. She was trying to get back into her work when it dawned on her that the scars of the past would not be quickly healed.