**Phoenix**
Katherine stepped into the office, offering the security guard a slight nod before bypassing the lifts in favour of the stairs. She always took them to the fifth floor. Three times a week, she went to the gym—any more than that, and time slipped away. Even at home, her flat on the fifteenth floor was often reached via the staircase if she had energy left after work.
The sharp click of her heels against the lobby tiles faded as she disappeared into the stairwell, almost as if she’d flown upward. Behind her back, they called her the Ice Queen, a witch, ruthless. At thirty-six, she could pass for a decade younger. Only her eyes gave her away—intelligent, assessing, the eyes of a woman who had lived. Her business attire was immaculate, her makeup understated, enhancing natural beauty.
“Who was that?” a young man asked the guard, who eyed him with suspicion.
“Director of the auditing firm ‘Phoenix,'” the portly middle-aged man said, respect colouring his tone.
The woman had long since gone, but the faint trace of her perfume still lingered in the air.
“Is she married?” the young man pressed, scanning the business centre’s directory for ‘Phoenix.’
“What’s your business here?” The guard’s suspicion sharpened.
“I’ve an interview at Norton.”
“Name?” The guard was already dialling an internal number.
The young man gave it.
“Seventh floor, office seven-seventeen,” the guard said, nodding toward the lifts.
Alec—Alex, as he preferred—headed for the elevators, feeling the guard’s eyes on his back. He noted that ‘Phoenix’ was on the fifth floor. After riding to the seventh, he doubled back down the stairs. The glass doors bore a bold red sign: *Phoenix Auditing Firm*. Inside, a young receptionist greeted him with a polite smile.
“Good morning. How may I help you?”
“Morning. Is the director in?” he asked, as if it were routine.
“Yes. Do you have an appointment?” She flipped open a planner.
“Well—no. But I’d like a word.”
“I’m afraid she only sees people by prior arrangement. Shall I book you in?” Her smile never wavered.
Then came the sound of heels. Alec turned and saw an elegant woman striding toward them. His posture shifted, predator-like.
“Miss Katherine, this gentleman doesn’t have an appointment,” the receptionist said.
“Honestly, I was just at Norton for an interview. Thought I’d take a chance here,” Alec admitted, flashing a boyish grin.
Katherine’s sharp gaze swept over him.
“Do you have an economics background?” Her voice was low, smooth.
“No, law,” he said, infusing his smile with charm.
“Very well. Come with me.” She led him down the corridor, Alec admiring the sway of her grey pencil skirt, the click of stilettos, the faint citrus-amber scent trailing behind her.
“Emily, no calls for ten minutes,” she told the fresh-faced secretary outside her office before ushering him inside.
The thick carpet swallowed their footsteps. She took her seat at the head of the polished conference table, gesturing for him to sit.
“What position are you seeking?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging apologetically.
“Then I suggest you return to Norton.” Her tone chilled.
“Truth is, I’ve never worked in auditing. But I need a job, and I learn fast. Give me a chance.”
She studied him again.
“One of our senior staff is retiring. He’ll train you for two weeks. Full salary kicks in after a two-month probation—if you last. Agreed?”
“Absolutely. You won’t regret it.”
“Documents?”
“Right here.” He reached for his folder.
She waved a hand. “HR will take them. Emily will show you. Be warned—security vetting is thorough. Any questions? Good. Emily will handle the rest.” Her attention returned to the papers before her.
Alec left, feeling her eyes on his back.
“Strict,” he remarked to Emily, shutting the office door.
The secretary didn’t smile. *Well-trained*, he noted.
He counted himself lucky—landing a job so fast, with a boss like *that*. *Slow and steady*, he reminded himself. *Don’t spook her.*
Later, in HR, a woman thumbed through his employment history.
“Why leave your last firm?”
“My sister lives in London. I fancied a change. Your company caught my eye—liked the name.”
No need to mention the director’s daughter back in Manchester, the pregnancy scare, the father’s wrath.
As he filled out forms, Alec mused about Katherine: *Young for a director. Bet someone helped her up the ladder.*
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
She’d grown up in a mill town where factory smoke choked the sky. Her mother worked there twenty years before lung disease took her, just as Katherine finished school. She fled to London, chasing better.
There, she met Daniel, an older student who took her under his wing—until she told him she was pregnant. He vanished. A termination followed, then the shattering news: she’d likely never conceive again.
After that, men were irrelevant—until the director of ‘Phoenix,’ twenty-two years her senior, proposed marriage and partnership. She accepted without love. Ten years later, widowed, she took full control.
Two weeks on, the office gathered to farewell the longest-serving employee. Katherine gave a speech, handed over an envelope of cash and a spa voucher for the Cotswolds. A buffet followed, then dancing.
As she headed for the exit, Alec intercepted her.
“Miss Katherine, may I?”
Without waiting, he swept her into a waltz, moving with effortless confidence. As the music ended, he dipped her dramatically. Applause broke out.
Helping her up, he saw something flash in her eyes—interest. She left without a word. He let her go. *Patience.*
After that, Alec avoided her—until she summoned him.
“Your probation’s ending. You’re in.” Her voice was cool.
A week later, he “accidentally” met her at the car park. “Your driver’s late. Let me.”
At her flat, he half-expected rejection, but she let him in.
The lift rose silently. Her apartment was pristine, unlived-in. Male slippers by the door hinted at rare visitors.
Over coffee at the kitchen island, small talk gave way to hunger. He kissed her.
By morning, he was dressed, coffee in hand. No lingering. Just, “I’ll go. Best not be seen.”
The slam of the door left her breathless.
Two months later, she fainted at work.
The doctor’s words stunned her: *You’re pregnant.* At her age? After being told she never would be?
She tried calling Alec. No answer.
That evening, she slipped out of the clinic, took a cab home. The smell of frying meat turned her stomach. Then she heard Alec’s voice—and Emily’s giggle.
Peering into the kitchen, she saw him in nothing but an apron, Emily in his shirt.
Rage choked her. But the doctor’s warning echoed: *Don’t risk the baby.*
Silently, she left.
The next morning, soft-shoed and pale, she entered the office. Emily and Alec froze mid-whisper.
“Emily, draft Alec’s termination. Effective today. Then your own.”
Alec stormed in. “You’re firing me?”
“You ignored my calls. I came home early. Saw everything.” Her voice cracked. “Wasn’t I enough?”
Emily trembled.
“You’ve made too many mistakes. You’re done.”
Alec hissed, “You’ll regret this,” and left.
At the window, Katherine watched the city blur through tears. *No man will hurt me again.*
But she’d sworn that once before.
By May, she pushed a pram through Hyde Park, her daughter swaddled in lace. Ahead, a couple argued loudly—Alec, dishevelled, begging another chance from a weary-looking woman.
Katherine walked past without a glance.
No pity. No anger. Just her daughter—her fresh start.
*Phoenix* had been the perfect name. She’d risen from ashes before.
And she would again.
