I Chased My Brother’s Friend for a Month, Then Walked Into Work and Found Out He Owns the Company Chapter 04

I Chased My Brother’s Friend for a Month, Then Walked Into Work and Found Out He Owns the Company Chapter 04

First day of my internship, I wore a new white dress.

I fixed my collar three times in the mirror.

My mom called from the living room. “Is that really necessary?”

“My boyfriend works there. I need to look presentable, don’t I?”

My mom just laughed and didn’t say anything else.

My brother had left half an hour before me.

At the door, while he was changing his shoes, I came out of my room and he looked at me.

“When you get to the office today, don’t wander around, and don’t say anything out of line.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“I’m serious, Erin.”

His tone was off.

Not the casual way a brother warns his sister.

It was serious, almost pleading.

“Fine, fine, I got it.”

I didn’t think twice about it.

At nine, I arrived at the company building.

A twenty-plus-story glass tower, the lobby full of people in suits.

I gave my name at the front desk, and an admin escorted me up to the twelfth floor.

My internship was in the marketing department. My desk was by the window at the end of the hall.

My team lead was Mr. Foster, early thirties, glasses, spoke fast.

“Your brother’s on the fifteenth floor, in finance. Don’t go up there looking for him during work hours. It doesn’t look good.”

“Got it, Mr. Foster.”

“Get familiar with things first. No real work today. Just look through some materials.”

I sat down and flipped through files for half an hour, but my mind was elsewhere.

I was wondering which floor Declan was on.

He’d said he was in management, so he had to be in this building too.

I pulled out my phone and texted him. I’m here. What floor are you on?

He didn’t reply.

At 10:30, Mr. Foster asked me to go to the fifteenth floor to get a budget sheet from my brother.

I got on the elevator and went up to fifteen.

The finance department was on the left side of the hall, door open.

My brother’s desk was toward the back, him typing away at his computer.

I walked over and knocked on his desk. “Bro, Mr. Foster sent me for the budget sheet.”

My brother looked up and pulled a folder from his drawer, handing it to me.

“Take it and go.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Just go.”

His eyes kept darting toward the hallway.

I thought it was weird, so I turned around and looked.

At the end of the hall, there was a private office. The door was closed, the blinds half-drawn.

“Whose office is that?”

My brother shot up, shoved the folder into my hands, and pushed me toward the exit.

“Don’t look. Go back to your desk.”

“What are you doing? Why are you pushing me?”

“Erin, please. Just go.”

His voice was shaking.

He shoved me all the way to the elevator and pressed the button. When the doors opened, he pushed me

inside.

“Don’t come find me at lunch. I’ll come to you.”

The doors closed.

I stood in the elevator, folder in hand, replaying my brother’s expression.

It wasn’t annoyance.

It was fear.

What was he afraid of?

At lunch, I didn’t see my brother.

I was eating takeout at my desk when my phone buzzed.

My brother texted. There’s an all-hands meeting at 2 p.m. Just follow Mr. Foster and keep your mouth shut.

I replied. What meeting?

He didn’t answer.

At 2 p.m., Mr. Foster took me to the conference room on the eighteenth floor.

Long table, projector, about twenty people seated.

I sat in the back corner.

Mr. Foster whispered. “Quarterly review. All departments attend. Just listen.”

“Who’s running it?”

“The VP.”

The meeting started.

The first few departments gave their reports. Numbers, slides.

I understood about half of it, my eyelids starting to droop.

Then the conference room door opened.

Everyone went quiet at once.

A man walked in, holding a coffee cup and a black folder.

Black suit, slicked-back hair, measured steps.

The sound of his leather shoes on the floor was deliberate.

He walked to the head of the long table, set down his coffee, and opened the folder.

I was frozen in my chair.

It was Declan.

My Declan.

The one I’d spent two thousand dollars chasing for a month.

He sat down in that seat, looked up, and scanned the room.

“Overall revenue dropped seven percent in Q3. I’ve reviewed Marketing’s proposal, and there are three points

that need adjustment.”

His voice was nothing like the Declan I knew.

Not gentle, not laid-back.

It was sharp, precise, every word carrying weight.

Mr. Foster sat up straight and started taking notes.

No one in the room made a sound.

I spotted my brother in the second row, off to the side.

His notebook was open in front of him, his head bowed low.

Declan called on the finance department. “Who was responsible for the Q3 cost analysis?”

My brother stood up.

“Mr. Sterling, I was.”

Mr. Sterling.

My brother called him Mr. Sterling.

My brother stood there, hands clasped in front of him, hunched over, handing Declan a document.

Declan flipped through two pages without looking up. “The data on page seven doesn’t match last month’s.

Verify it and get it back to me tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Sterling. I’ll stay late and take care of it.”

“Mm. Sit.”

When my brother sat down, I saw the back of his shirt was soaked through with sweat.

That was my brother.

The person I’d been most afraid of my whole life.

He used to chase me down three streets when I was a kid.

He called the shots at home, even my dad gave him the floor.

And now he was standing in front of Declan, bent over, his voice trembling.

The meeting continued.

Declan went department by department, his tone and expression unchanged.

When someone gave a lousy report, he cut them off flat. “Do you actually believe those numbers yourself?”

Nobody dared to answer.

The meeting ran for forty minutes.

When it ended, everyone stood up and waited for him to leave first.

Declan gathered his folder, picked up his coffee, and walked out.

As he passed the back row, he stopped.

He saw me.

I was sitting in the corner, my pen had fallen out of my hand without me even noticing.

He walked over with his coffee and stopped right in front of me.

Everyone in the room was staring.

Mr. Foster’s face had gone white beside me.

Declan raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Intern, should this month’s salary be wired to your card, or mine?”

My mouth opened.

But no words came out.

He didn’t wait for an answer. He just walked out with his coffee.

The conference room door clicked shut.

Mr. Foster leaned in, his voice shaky. “You know Mr. Sterling?”

I didn’t answer.

I sat there in that chair, my brain trying to rearrange everything.

The flowers. Dinner. Scarf. Confession. The twelve-hundred-dollar sushi. The two thousand dollars.

His desk that was cleaner than a hospital room.

His words. “Next time, don’t order so much expensive stuff. No need.”

His words. “That money you’ve been spending means nothing to him.”

It was the truth.

The guy I’d chased for a month.

The guy I’d bragged about landing, thinking I’d scored way above my league.

I thought I could reach him.

I couldn’t even see the ground he was standing on.