Penelope's POV
As I moved through the crowd, heels clicking against marble, I felt it—the wall around my heart, thickening again. Love? No. There were better things to chase. More useful things than fragile emotions and messy attachments.
He was just a toy. A means to an end. A beautifully wrapped distraction. Nothing more.
I told myself that again.
And again.
Even as my fingers trembled around the phone.
Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number.
It rang once.
" Hello Penelope....."
******
A few minutes passed, the weight of every conversation still clinging to me.
Descending to the underground garage, the cool air hit my skin like a silent warning. I spotted Andrew's Audi A8 parked near the far end—sleek, black, and impossibly clean.
Without hesitation, I walked over and opened the passenger door. The soft click echoed in the quiet space. Sliding into the co-pilot's seat, I let the leather embrace me, shutting out the noise of the day.
" Are you done? How was it?" Andrew asked as he turned in his seat, his voice low but curious.
I turned to him slowly, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"It went well," I said, trying to keep my voice light—even though part of me still felt tangled in the weight of everything.
" Do you want to talk about it? " he continued.
" Nah, I don't want to talk about it right now "
" Okay.... what about lunch ?" He asked.
" Yeah "
******
Andrew started the car, steering us toward a familiar spot about thirty minutes from the company. It was one of those quiet, modern cafés tucked just off the main road, with soft music, warm lighting, and a view of the nearby park.
By the time we arrived, the late lunch crowd had thinned out. The hostess gave us a friendly smile and led us to a booth near the window.
"Welcome to Café Hazel," she said, placing two tan leather-bound menus on the table. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"
"Iced hibiscus tea," I replied.
"Sparkling water," Andrew added.
She nodded and walked off, leaving us to scan the menu in silence for a moment. I watched Andrew glance at the sandwiches section with that same serious expression he wore during business meetings.
He looked up, half a smirk playing at his lips. "Chicken Caesar Wrap or the Turkey Avocado Club?"
"You know I always go for the Tuna Salad Sandwich." I grinned.
"Classic."
I flipped through the rest of the menu, pretending to read while stealing quick glances at him. The smell of roasted vegetables and fresh bread drifted through the café, calming some of the weight pressing on my chest.
The waitress returned with our drinks, taking our orders before disappearing again.
"So," Andrew said, his voice softer this time, "if you don't want to talk about earlier… maybe tell me about something that's not weighing you down."
I took a slow sip from my tea, letting the coolness anchor me for a moment.
"Like what?"
"Anything. Something small. Normal."
I gave it a moment. "I like this place."
He raised a brow. "That's a start."
And just like that, for the first time all day, I felt something that resembled peace.
And the rest of the day went just as well.
-----
BLACKWOOD INDUSTRIES
it was morning the next day, most of the workers had spent the night at the company over the correction of a particular project.
The soft hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Sounds of printers and keyboard strokes echoed across the open floor, the air tinged with the scent of strong coffee and quiet urgency.
Phones rang in short bursts. Emails were being fired like rapid ammunition. Conversations, brief, coded, efficient—flitted across cubicles and glass-walled offices.
Somewhere in the midst of it, a file stamped with "EchoGrid and Oceans Media Collaboration - Pending" lay on the edge of a large oak desk, waiting to be noticed.
THE CEO'S OFFICE.
A knock came first, soft, deliberate—followed by the slow creak of the door swinging open.
The room revealed itself in cool tones and clean lines. Every inch of it was intentional, from the slate-grey walls to the matte black fixtures.
The air carried that faint, crisp scent of leather and polished wood. Cold as it looked, the design didn't lack warmth—it was the kind of expensive that whispered instead of screamed. Understated. Immaculate. Powerful.
It was a space meant to command respect.
And in the center of it all, behind the broad desk of black walnut, sat Kaius Blackwood.
"Boss."
Kaius looked up from the pile of documents on his desk. Adjusting his glasses, he fixed a cold stare on the cause of the disturbance.
"What is the problem, Aaron?"
"Sorry, sir," Aaron began, stepping forward. "RWL Industries is trying to poach the Green Border site."
Kaius's eyes darkened.
"The Golden Site?"
Aaron nodded. "Yes, sir. They've sent in an early proposal. Word is they're trying to strike a deal directly with the state development committee before we can finalize ours."
Kaius leaned back slowly in his chair, jaw tight. The Green Border was more than land—it was a strategic goldmine. Positioned near one of the oldest preserved forest lines, the government had been considering a dual development plan: industrial expansion and eco-tourism potential. Whoever controlled that land could own both the narrative and the long-term profits.
"That site was meant to be ours," he said evenly. "RWL's timing isn't coincidence."
"No, sir," Aaron agreed. "They likely caught wind of our preliminary interests and fast-tracked their approach."
Kaius tapped his fingers against the desk once, then twice—calculating.
"Is there any response from the media board regarding the EchoGrid proposal?"
"Yes," Aaron replied. "Penelope Garcia confirmed their interview availability. She requested that her father not be present, and left the rest open for your approval."
Kaius's eyes flickered with thought. The media coverage. The public visibility. A chance to control the optics.
FLASHBACK
Aaron's POV — That afternoon 1: 29 PM
His phone lit up with an incoming call: Penelope Garcia.
Aaron exhaled through his nose and answered. "Mr. Aaron speaking."
"It's Penelope Garcia," came the familiar cool voice.
"I'm following up on the proposed schedule for the EchoGrid–Blackwood interview collaboration. Has a date been finalized yet?"
He straightened instinctively in his seat. "Mr. Blackwood hasn't locked it in yet, but your name on the feature strengthens our angle."
There was a pause—brief but deliberate.
"I wanted the topic to center on clean innovation, urban integration, and the cost of unchecked expansion," she said. "Then perhaps a touch on his personal life. Nothing intrusive. Just... something bold. Something he can't ignore."
Aaron tapped his pen against his notepad. "You're setting the narrative before he even steps in."
"I'm giving him a head start," she replied smoothly.
He almost smiled. That was classic Penelope.
" I sent the preliminary proposal to him last night," he added. "No comments yet, but I'm told he skimmed through it."
"Let me guess—he's not the type to be rushed."
Aaron hesitated, choosing his words. "He's... meticulous."
"I don't need a personality profile, Mr. Aaron," she said dryly. "Just send me a firm confirmation by tomorrow. If there's any pushback or delay, I want to hear it first—not my father."
"Understood."
"Good. That's all."
She ended the call without so much as a goodbye. Aaron stared at the now-black screen for a moment, then slowly lowered the phone.
The interview would go through. That much was clear.
But if there was one thing more unpredictable than Penelope Garcia—it was what Kaius Blackwood would do once he realized she was setting the tone.
END OF FLASHBACK
"I'll accept the interview," he said finally. "Move it up on the calendar. The more favorable press we have, the better our chances at locking down the Green Border deal."
Aaron scribbled a quick note into his tablet. "Understood."
Kaius nodded, then turned his chair slightly, gazing out the window at the skyline beyond—silent, composed, but already five moves ahead.