Burning Rancor 18+

Four

The next time my eyes fluttered open, the haze of the fever had entirely slipped away, leaving behind a cold, brutal reality. I was still lying in the exact same spot on Mason’s couch, wearing the same crumpled, ruined work clothes from days ago. My skin was drenched in a thick, profound sweat that made my blouse stick uncomfortably to my ribs.

The cabin was pitch-black, save for the eerie, distant glow of the city skyline filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Mason was nowhere to be seen. His laptop was closed, and his heavy leather chair sat empty.

With a trembling hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I pressed the power button, but the screen remained stubbornly black. Dead. I had no concept of time, no idea how many hours had slipped through my fingers while I was burning up.

I sat up slowly, a wave of nausea washing over me as my feet touched the carpet. I felt absolutely gross. My hair was matted with sweat, and my mouth tasted like copper and old medication.

For a fleeting second, I looked toward the door of Mason’s private executive bathroom. I desperately wanted to wash my face, but the absolute terror of him walking in and finding me using his personal space froze the blood in my veins. Pissing him off right now wasn't an option. I didn't want to give him another reason to humiliate me.

Dragging my aching body off the couch, I slipped out of the silent, shadowed corporate building and caught a late-night bus home.

When the bus dropped me off, the night air did nothing to soothe the violent thumping of my heart. As I stood outside my parents' run-down, peeling house, a familiar suffocating dread settled deep into my chest. I genuinely had no idea how long I had been out cold. It felt like an eternity, and the last thing my fragile state could handle was a confrontation with either of my parents.

I took a deep, shaky breath, turned the key as quietly as humanly possible, and stepped into the dim hallway.

But luck had completely abandoned me years ago.

The exact moment I crossed the threshold, the door to my parents’ bedroom opened. My mother walked out, holding a plastic pitcher to get water. The second her eyes landed on my disheveled, sweat-soaked figure, her expression soured into an ugly, venomous sneer.

"Look who finally decided to show up," she hissed, her voice a low, dangerous whisper that cut through the quiet house. She walked closer, narrowing her eyes until they were thin slits of pure malice. "You’ve been staying awfully late at the office these past few days, yet you still can't manage to do one f*****g right thing. Because of your utter incompetence, I am rotting away in this goddamned, pathetic place."

I backed up until my spine hit the front door, my face draining of whatever color it had left.

"I am going to give you exactly one month, Ava," she continued, stepping right into my personal space. The smell of cheap gin and stale cigarettes rolled off her. "One month. If I don't find you getting into Mason Brooks’s bed by then, I will find another rich customer who actually knows how to utilize a girl like you."

I paled so violently the world briefly tilted. My breath caught in my throat, a suffocating panic settling deep into my bones.

"You... you can't," I whispered, my voice cracking, barely audible.

I hated myself in that exact moment. I hated the fact that even after everything, I couldn't find the backbone to stand up to her. I hated that I couldn't find a shred of courage to just turn the doorknob behind me, walk out into the night, and never look back. I was trapped by a childhood ghost.

All I could ever do was cower, waiting helplessly for some kind of miracle to magically drop from the sky and pull me out of this living hell.

My mother let out a soft, chilling chuckle. It was a sound that sent a sharp spike of pure dread directly down my spine.

"Oh, believe me, I can," she smirked, her eyes gleaming with a sick, calculating satisfaction. "If I don't get the financial results I desire from your little corporate stunt, I will sell you off to someone else. It doesn't matter to me which wealthy man you are spreading your legs for, as long as it makes me rich. Remember that."

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. I knew that smirk. I knew her twisted mind. She wasn't just throwing out empty threats to scare me- she already had someone specific in mind. Someone vile, someone old and powerful, who would be more than willing to pay a hefty sum to force me into compliance while handing her the keys to a life of luxury.

I bit my lower lip so hard I nearly broke the skin, my heart dropping straight into a bottomless abyss.

She didn't stand around to watch the terror completely paralyze me. With a dismissive roll of her shoulders, she turned on her heel and walked back into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

The silence of the hallway crashed back down on me.

"No, no, no..." I breathed, my hands shaking so violently I had to drop my bag onto the floor just to press my palms against my face.

I didn't want to do it. I couldn't go through that nightmare yet again. The thought of being used, of being forced into another bedroom just to line my mother’s pockets, made me want to tear my own skin off. I just couldn't do it anymore.

My knees trembling, I dragged myself down the narrow corridor back to my tiny, cramped room. I collapsed onto the mattress, but sleep never came. The entire night was a grueling torture of racing thoughts and absolute panic.

My heart refused to calm down, hammering against my ribs like a trapped animal until the dark sky outside my window slowly bled into a pale, mocking grey.

When morning finally broke, I dragged my exhausted body out of bed. The room felt heavy, suffocating. I got ready as fast as my clumsy, trembling fingers would allow. I didn't care about the lingering ache of the stitches in my hand or the dull throb in my skull; my only priority was getting out of this house before my mother woke up. I was terrified that if she saw me, she might change her mind about the one-month deadline and drag me straight to whatever monster she was planning to sell me to.

I almost lost my balance and fell while stepping into my mandatory heels, a sharp pain shooting up my calf. But I managed to steady myself, grab my coat, and slip out the front door just in time.

The absolute second the deadbolt clicked shut behind me, I heard the heavy wood of my parents' bedroom door creaking open inside. A wave of profound relief washed over me. I turned and practically ran down the cracked pavement, pushing through the morning fog until I reached the safety of the crowded public bus.

Because of my frantic escape, I arrived at the corporate headquarters nearly an hour early.

The grand glass building was eerily quiet, with very few employees wandering through the vast, polished lobby. As I silently walked through the long, bright corridors toward the executive suite, for the first time in two years, I didn't feel ashamed or afraid. There was no one around to throw disgusted looks my way. No one to whisper insults behind my back. For a beautiful, fleeting few minutes, the air felt clear, and it almost felt like it was my very first day at the company all over any scandal had occurred.

When I unlocked the doors to Mason’s private cabin, he wasn't there.

I walked in and noticed his grand mahogany desk was an absolute disaster. Papers were scattered everywhere, folders were left wide open, and an empty coffee cup sat dangerously close to a stack of financial contracts. It technically wasn't my job to organize his personal desk- he had made it clear that my boundaries were strictly limited to my chairless corner- but the deep, engrained habit of decluttering was screaming at me. My hands practically twitched with the urge to put the chaos in order.

Thinking I was completely alone, I took a tentative step forward and reached my hand out to stack a pile of loose documents.

Right as my fingers were about to touch the paper, the door to his private bathroom swung open. Mason stepped out, adjusting his tie.

"What the hell are you doing?" he barked instantly.

The sudden, booming sound of his voice made me jump a mile in the air, my hand snapping back as if I had been burned. He immediately went into absolute defensive mode, his eyes widening with suspicion the moment he saw me standing so close to his workspace.

"What are you sneaking around my desk for?" he growled, his boots thudding heavily against the carpet as he marched directly toward me, shooting a lethal glare that felt like a physical blow.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Mr. Brooks," I stammered, quickly lowering my eyes to the floor and taking three large steps back to create distance between us. "I didn't mean to sneak around. I just wanted a glass of water from the dispenser."

"My desk is strictly off-limits to you," he said, stopping a few feet away. Even though he wasn't shouting anymore, I could feel the sheer, vibrating rage radiating off his frame. It pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe. "Don't you f*****g dare come near it again. Not for papers, not for files, and sure as hell not for water. Do you understand me?"

"Understood, sir," I whispered quietly, keeping my gaze firmly locked onto his polished shoes as I slunk back toward my tiny, chairless desk in the far corner of the room.

Mason let out a harsh breath, smoothing down his suit jacket before looking at me with an icy, detached expression.

"You will be working down in the main secretarial office for the next few days," he announced coldly, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "I am leaving on an extended business trip out of the country, and this private cabin will be completely sealed and locked in my absence."

He didn't explicitly say the reason why he was locking the heavy oak doors, but he didn't need to. I knew exactly why. He didn't want a malicious, untrustworthy home-wrecker like me anywhere near his personal files or his desk while he wasn't around to watch my every move.

"I'll gather my things," I said softly.

Inside, however, my soul was fracturing. The thought of being exiled to the main secretarial pool was terrifying. In Mason's office, I only had to face his cruelty. Downstairs, in the open-floor pool, I would be completely exposed. I knew the burning stares, the brutal whispers, and the venomous disgust of the other secretaries would eat me alive within a matter of hours. I would have no corner to hide in.

But as always, I had absolutely no say in the matter. I had no voice, no power, and no escape. All I could ever do was lower my head, accept my miserable fate, and pray that whatever miracle I was waiting for would find me before my one-month deadline ran out.

~•~