"Where could it be?" Isa muttered, her fingers fumbling as she yanked open the same drawers she'd already searched a dozen times.
She'd spent the whole night tossing and turning, clinging to the hope that the folder might still be in her desk. She had even prayed. But deep down, she'd known the truth—her instincts had been right. The folder wasn't in the office either.
Her nerves jumped as her phone rang. With an annoyed sigh, she snatched it up—but froze the moment she saw the caller ID.
The CEO.
The phone nearly slipped from her shaking hands. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and sweat soaked the back of her shirt.
"Stay calm," Isa whispered to herself, drawing in a shaky breath. "Just act normal." She forced a smile and answered the call.
"Good mor—"
"You're the only one with the folder."
Isa's smile vanished.
"S-sir..."
"I warned you," his voice cut like a blade, cold and sharp. "One wrong hand. One wrong link. And now the world sees what wasn't ready."
A pause.
"You ruined my dream."
Her throat tightened. Her grip on the phone loosened as her hand trembled. Hot tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She could picture his clenched jaw, the fury in his eyes, his fists curling as he spoke from the other side of the line.
"I... I..." Isa's lips quivered. No words came.
Is this the end?
Am I about to be fired?
Her mother's voice erupted in her mind, imagined but all too familiar: "You bastard! Useless! I shouldn't have had you!"
Isa's chest tightened. Her throat bobbed painfully as she fought back tears.
"You're fired."
The words hadn't come yet, but she already felt their weight—like a sentence she'd been dreading her whole life.
"How will you pay for this?"
Isa held her breath and clenched the phone tighter. She opened her mouth, but no sound came. Her throat was dry, her voice swallowed by panic.
On the other end, Chris's patience snapped.
"You ruined everything I've worked for!" he roared.
Isa flinched, beads of sweat on her forehead. Her free hand twisted the fabric of her skirt.
"How will you pay for it. " He paused. "Answer me! How will you—""
Suddenly, he cut off mid-sentence. Isa froze as she heard a gasp, followed by the sharp clatter of his phone hitting the floor.
Then came a groan—low and guttural, as if torn from deep inside. A screeching grind of teeth followed, the sound of someone trying to grit through unbearable pain.
"B-boss?" Isa stammered, both hands gripping the phone as her heart pounded up into her throat.
Something's wrong.
"Sir? Are you okay?" she asked in a rush, her voice cracking. "Boss?"
Only broken sounds replied—groans, strained and pained.
Panic surged through her. Isa ended the call and quickly dialled emergency services.
"H-hello," she gasped. "My boss—he was on the phone with me and then collapsed. I think something's wrong. His name is Chris Adler, he's my CEO."
"Address, miss?"
Isa bit her lower lip, restless. Her mind raced. She didn't know his address.
But then—an idea.
She darted to her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard, her heel tapping a nervous rhythm against the tiled floor.
Come on. There has to be something.
She yanked open the company directory—nothing. No address, no contact info.
"I—I don't know!" she cried into the phone. "Please, just do something!"
"We're tracing the phone signal now," the dispatcher replied calmly. "Stay on the line—we're dispatching an ambulance to his location."