Tears blurred my vision as I burst through the doors of the women's restroom.
I let out shaky breaths as I turned on the faucet and placed my bleeding palm underneath the running water.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." I cursed under my breath as I began to panic.
What the hell was I thinking?
I quit?
Why the hell did I even say that?
I needed this job.
I had nothing else to fall back to.
How was I going to pay my rent? And all the textbooks Sophie needed money for? How was I going to handle that? What was I gonna tell Sophie? How could I have been so reckless with my words?
Fuck.
Your mouth, Maddy, your fucking mouth.
I was a goner.
There was no way I still had any hope to cling to after that outburst I just had. My desk had probably already been cleared.
As satisfying as it felt finally being able to say everything that I felt, I couldn't ignore the heavy weight in my chest that I had just told my boss I quit, after cursing continuously at him.
Tears rolled down my cheeks but I was quick to wipe them off.
This wasn't the time to cry. I wasn't even sure exactly why I was crying. I was honestly just tired.
What if I walked back into that office and begged for his forgiveness? What if I pleaded with him that I didn't mean a word I said and that he should please accept me back because I couldn't lose this job? Would he be kind enough to overlook it?
Who was I kidding?
This was William Torres we were talking about here.
I was done for.
My entire existence in this company was done for.
I didn't even think begging Mrs. Thornsmith for a reassignment could save me now. Not after the way I just spoke to the CEO.
It was better to just cut my losses and get ready to start job hunting again.
I took a minute to collect myself, staring back at my tired and stressed looking reflection in the mirror. I had turned off the faucet and tried to ignore the tiny hints of blood I could still see prickling out of the wound. I'd just have to attend properly to that when I got home.
Letting out yet another defeated sigh, I made my way out of the restroom and headed back to my office to gather my things.
Imagine my surprise when I pushed open my office door to see William stop in his tracks at the sight of me, like he had been pacing.
In my office.
I was confused and I made that visibly obvious on my face.
He, himself, looked almost just as confused. Like he wasn't used to whatever actions he was about to take.
Was this a setup?
It wasn't only after a few seconds later that I saw a first aid kit, sitting gloriously on my office table.
I didn't understand.
He didn't want me to pack up my things and fuck off immediately?
He wanted to… tend to my wound?
William stepped closer. His voice, when it came, wasn't sharp like before. It was low. Tight. Controlled.
"Let me see it."
I hesitated, "I'm all good."
"It's still bleeding." He said again, firmer this time. "Madelyn, don't argue. Let me see it."
It was the first time my name was rolling out of his mouth with such… softness.
I hesitated a bit again, jaw clenched, but finally let him take my hand.
He led me slowly, closer to my office table where he could be at close proximity with his first aid tools. His fingers were steady. Surprisingly gentle for someone who spent most of his time gripping boardroom tables and signing people's futures away.
He began with disinfecting the wound, trying to apply enough pressure to stop it from bleeding entirely.
"Does it hurt?" He asked quietly.
Well, what the fuck do you think?
"I'm fine."
"That wasn't the question."
Our eyes met just as he took out a band aid and plastered it across the wound when he was certain he had cleaned it up completely and stopped the bleeding.
A flicker of something crossed his face then—regret, maybe. Or guilt heavy enough to crack through his armor for once.
His jaw flexed once, twice, like forcing the words out cost him something:
"I'm sorry, Ms. Clarke."
I found it extremely hard to believe what I was hearing. There I was in the bathroom panicking about how I would come in here and apologize but somehow, I was the one receiving an apology.
From William Torres?
Sorry?
"I have been quite inconsiderate in my actions towards you." He said, his voice a fine blend between sharp and soft. "But most importantly, I'm sorry that my actions caused you to get hurt. I'll be less careless in the future."
"Future?" I couldn't keep the tiny glint of hope out of my tone.
Does that mean?
"I want you to keep working for me. If you still want to, of course." He stated, with a small nod.
It was still a bit hard to believe that my total ass of a boss was taking this much accountability and actually speaking to me like a human being barely twenty minutes after I had practically yelled at him.
Wow.
Who said pigs couldn't fly?
"Is that okay?" He spoke again, his voice maintaining that same tone.
"Sure, but I'm sorry," I reached for my phone on my desk, "if you could just repeat all that so I'd have it on record."
It wasn't a complete laugh
But something soft and breathy escaped him and there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
I almost gasped, "Mr. Torres, as I live and breathe, did you just laugh at my joke?"
He gave me a look, "Don't push it."
I let out a soft laugh as I put some distance between us.
"Thank you." I said, gesturing to the band aid. "Now, do we have anything else that needs my attention or can I go home now and get some sleep?"
"I think it's best we call it a day." He said with a small nod as he dug his hands into his pockets.
Glancing at the time as I put my things together, I let out a breath of relief and said quietly under my breath, "Thank God. I'll be just in time for the next train."
"You take the train?"
I didn't think he'd hear me.
I looked up to him, "I do, sir."
"You don't have a car?" He asked, like it was such an outrageous thing to think of.
"You think I come in and out of this place every day with a car?" I gave him a pointed look.
"I mean, yeah." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's pretty late. Is your neighborhood safe?"
"Oh, now you care if my neighborhood's safe?" I gave him yet another pointed look.
William clenched his jaw, clearly at my snarky comments.
"I'll drop you off at your place." He told me.
Not asked. Not suggested. Told.
I furrowed my brows, "I'm good, thank you."
"I wasn't asking."
"Look, I've left this office later than this and you've never stopped to ask me about my neighborhood or how I get home."
"That's because I thought you had a car."
"Either way, I'm fine taking the train." My brows were still furrowed. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be nice to me or treat me entirely different because of the way I crashed out earlier."
William cocked his head to the side.
"First of all, Ms. Clarke." He started, fixing his eyes on mine. "No one can ever make me feel like I have to do anything. I am simply considering how exhausted you must be and given your injury, it's the least I can do."
One skeptical eyebrow was still raised.
I picked up my bag from the table and slowly started walking away, "Sir, really, it's fine. I don't mind taking the-"
"Madelyn." William's voice came out firm but gentle as I felt his hand on my wrist, holding me back. "Don't be stubborn. Let me drive you home."
We were close.
Very close.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The only sound was our breathing and the quiet weight of everything that had transpired today.
"Fine." I said, holding his gaze. "Drive me home."
***
The silence in his car wasn't like silence anywhere else.
I sat stiff in the passenger seat, hand wrapped in a clean bandage William had insisted on before we left the office. I kept my eyes on the city lights blurring past the window. Anything but him.
I should've just taken the train.
I felt like I couldn't breathe in this car.
The car itself was exactly what I'd expected from William Torres—sleek black leather, cold metal trim, and a faint scent of expensive cologne. No music. No distractions.
He drove exactly like he worked—controlled, efficient, no wasted movements.
"You really didn't have to do this." I said, my voice low as I finally broke the silence.
William's eyes stayed on the road, "You weren't taking the train with your hand like that."
I looked at him then, really looked, through furrowed skeptical brows—sharp profile lit by the city glow, tension running through his shoulders like a live wire.
"This is weird." I couldn't help but point out as I looked to the road.
"What is?"
"You. Driving me home. Acting…" I looked at him again with the same knitted brows, trying to find the right word. "Human."
His grip on the steering wheel shifted just slightly. "Don't get used to it."
Don't gotta tell me twice.
The rest of the ride settled into silence again—less sharp this time. Not comfortable exactly, but quieter.
By the time he pulled up outside my building, the tension felt like it could snap in half. The car slowed to a smooth stop in front of my apartment building, headlights cutting across the worn brick façade.
William didn't say anything. Neither did I.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but hesitated when his voice broke the silence:
"Text me when you're inside."
I blinked. "What?"
His eyes stayed forward, hand still resting on the steering wheel like he hadn't meant to say it out loud.
"I don't like loose ends." His voice was quieter now. Controlled. Like always—but a bit less cold.
"Sure." I nodded. "Wouldn't want to mess with your schedule."
He didn't say anything.
I pushed the door open and stepped out into the night air, my bandaged hand tucked against my chest.
The car stayed idling as I walked toward my building, every step heavier than it should've been.
I didn't look back.
But I felt it—William's eyes on me, sharp and unblinking until I disappeared inside.
The door closed behind me with a soft click. And I finally released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding the entire time.