Phoenix
Katherine stepped into the office, offering the security guard a brief nod before passing the lifts and heading straight for the stairs. She always climbed to the fifth floor on foot. Three times a week, she made time for the gym—any more than that was impossible. Even at home, on the fifteenth floor, she often took the stairs if she had any energy left after work.
The sharp click of her heels against the polished tiles of the lobby soon faded into the stairwell, as if she’d simply floated upward. Behind her back, people called her a witch, an ice queen, ruthless. At thirty-six, she could pass for a decade younger. Only her eyes betrayed the truth—sharp, knowing, the eyes of a woman who had lived through far more than most. Her tailored business suits and understated makeup only enhanced her natural elegance.
“Who was that?” asked a young man who’d just approached the guard. The older man eyed him critically before answering.
“That’s Katherine Whitmore, director of the auditing firm Phoenix,” he said, with unmistakable respect.
The woman had long since disappeared, but the scent of her perfume still lingered in the air.
“Is she single?” the young man asked, glancing at the business centre’s directory as if searching for Phoenix’s office.
“What’s your business here, son?” The guard was already sizing him up.
“I’ve got an interview with Norton.”
“Your name?” The guard’s fingers hovered over the intercom.
The young man gave it.
“Seventh floor, office 717,” the guard said.
Daniel headed for the lifts, well aware of the guard’s watchful gaze. He’d noted that Phoenix was on the fifth floor. So when the lift reached seven, he doubled back down the stairs. The sleek glass doors of Phoenix stood before him, the name etched boldly in red. He stepped inside and was met with a bright, polite smile from the blonde receptionist.
“Good morning. How may I help you?”
“Morning. Is the director in?” Daniel asked, as if he belonged there.
“Yes. Do you have an appointment?” She flipped open a ledger.
“Well—no. But I’d like to speak with her.”
“I’m afraid she doesn’t see anyone without prior arrangement. Would you like to schedule a meeting?” Her smile didn’t falter.
Just then, the sharp click of heels echoed down the hall. A striking woman strode toward them. Daniel straightened like a predator catching sight of prey.
“Ms. Whitmore, this gentleman would like to speak with you, but he isn’t on the schedule,” the receptionist explained.
“Truth is, I was interviewing with Norton just now,” Daniel admitted, flashing a sheepish grin. “Thought I’d try my luck here.”
Katherine’s shrewd gaze swept over him. “Economics background?”
“Law, actually.” He turned on the charm.
She considered him for a beat. “Very well. Come with me.”
He followed, admiring the neat cut of her grey blazer, the way her heels elongated her legs. The scent of her perfume was expensive. Subtle.
“Olivia, hold my calls for ten minutes,” she instructed a pretty young secretary before pushing open the oak door to her office. “Come in.”
The plush carpet muffled their steps as she took her place at the head of the polished conference table, gesturing for him to sit.
“What role are you applying for?”
He shrugged, flashing another disarming smile. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“You’d be better off at Norton, then,” she said coolly.
“The truth is, I’ve never worked in auditing,” he admitted. “But I pick things up fast. Give me a chance—I won’t disappoint.”
Her assessing gaze lingered. “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 meet expectations. Agreed?”
“Absolutely.” He beamed. “You won’t regret it.”
“Documents with you?”
He reached for his folder, but she waved him off. “Take them to HR. Olivia will show you. Fair warning—we vet every employee thoroughly. Questions?”
“None.”
“See you tomorrow, then.” She dismissed him with a glance at her papers.
He walked out, feeling the weight of her gaze.
“Tough crowd,” he remarked to Olivia once the door shut.
She didn’t even crack a smile. Good. Well-trained.
He counted himself lucky. Landed a job straight off, and with a boss like *that*? “Just don’t rush it,” he reminded himself. “No sudden moves.”
Later, across from HR, he spun a lie about moving to London to be near family. Better than admitting he’d gotten some rich man’s daughter pregnant up in Manchester and barely escaped her father’s wrath.
As he signed his name, he wondered: *Young for a director. Must’ve had help.*
He wasn’t far off. Katherine had grown up in a grimy factory town where the stench of pulp and paper hung thick in the air. Her mother worked there for twenty years before the fumes destroyed her lungs. She died just before Katherine’s A-levels. With nothing left, Katherine escaped to London.
She met Henry at university—older, charming. He took the naive girl under his wing. When she told him she was pregnant, he vanished. Alone, terrified, she made the hardest choice of her life. The doctors warned she might never conceive again.
She swore off men after that, pouring everything into her career. Then she met the owner of Phoenix—thirty years her senior. When he proposed marriage and a partnership, she accepted without love. She could wait. And she did—ten long years—until his death made her the sole owner of everything.
Two weeks later, the office gathered to honour the firm’s longest-serving employee. Katherine gave a speech, handed over an envelope stuffed with cash, and a holiday voucher to the Maldives. The room buzzed with chatter and laughter, a buffet table picked clean.
She was nearly at the exit when Daniel caught her arm.
“Ms. Whitmore—dance with me?”
Before she could refuse, he swept her onto the floor. He moved with practised ease. As the music faded, he dipped her low. The room erupted in applause.
Helping her upright, he noted the flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes had thawed. She smoothed her blazer and left without a word.
Daniel didn’t chase her. *Patience.*
After that night, he avoided her—or pretended to. The more he focused on his work, the more she watched him. Finally, she cracked. Olivia summoned him.
Katherine sat behind her desk. “Your probation ends tomorrow. You’re hired—full salary.”
“Thank you,” he said, leaving before he smirked.
A week later, he “happened” to bump into her at the building’s exit, holding open his car door. “Your driver’s late. Let me take you.”
After a pause, she got in.
At her flat, he escorted her inside, half-expecting to be turned away. The lift’s silence magnified the hammering of his pulse.
Her penthouse was sleek, sterile. Not a home—just a place to sleep.
In the kitchen, the coffee machine hummed. They traded small talk until she turned from the sink and found herself in his arms, his mouth on hers—
He woke first, brought her coffee in bed. She sat up, clutching the sheets.
“I thought you might want this.”
Dressed, freshly showered, he left without lingering. No awkwardness, no expectations.
By the time Katherine arrived at work, smiling for once, Daniel was already at his desk, ignoring her completely. It drove her mad. Only behind closed doors did his tenderness return.
Two months later, she fainted at the office.
“Congratulations,” the doctor said. “You’re pregnant.”
She couldn’t believe it. After years believing she was barren—
“Given your age and stress levels, I recommend bed rest.”
Ecstatic, she called Daniel. No answer. By evening, she tried again. Silence.
Impatient, she bribed a nurse for her clothes, took a taxi home—
The smell of roasted meat turned her stomach. Then she heard them.
*”Hungry? Steak’s almost ready.”*
*”My hunter.”* Olivia’s giggle.
Peering into the kitchen, Katherine saw him in nothing but an apron. Olivia lounged in his shirt, bare legs swinging.
Rage choked her. He’d used her. Taken her money, her home—then brought *her secretary* here the moment she was gone.
She could storm in. Scream. Throw them out.
But the baby—the doctor’s warning—
Quietly, she left.
At her friend’s, she finally broke.
“You’re keeping it?” Rebecca asked.
“Of course. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“And him?”
She wiped her tears. “I’ll never forgive him.”
The next morning, whispers filled the office. Daniel flirted openly with Olivia.
Katherine’s icy voice cut through. “Olivia, draft his termination papers. Effective immediately.”
Daniel spun, stunned.
As she walked away from the office that evening, her hand resting gently on her stomach, Katherine knew she had everything she needed—not in revenge, but in the quiet strength of a future built on her own terms.
