The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 485

<Chapter 214: Like I Was Invisible

Chapter 214: Like I Was Invisible

The employees slowly returned to their screens, pretending to reclaim a normality that no longer fit.

Hudson stepped forward with the chilling authority of Damien Blackwood, while Cruz- perfectly maintaining his role as Ashcroft–followed right beside him, his posture dripping with casual confidence.

James fell into place a half–step behind them, tablet in hand, while the real Damien and real Ashcroft blended seamlessly into the rear as part of the security detail, perfectly maintaining the illusion.

The executive elevator waited at the end of the hall, doors open as if expecting them.

They walked toward it without urgency, without discussion, and without a single glance back. There was nothing left to see except consequences already in motion.

Behind them, Brandy stood frozen for half a second too long.

Then, she suddenly broke from her spot, desperately rushing forward to catch up to the man she thought was Ashcroft.

“Wait!”

Her voice cracked through the corridor as she lunged forward, clutching her purse tight against her side.

“Mr. Ashcroft-!”

She tried to reach out, but it was too late–he had already stepped inside the cab.

He did not turn. He did not pause. He didn’t even glance back to acknowledge her voice, completely shutting her out as if she were invisible.

The heavy doors began to slide shut, sealing him away.

Her knuckles turned white around the strap of her bag as a sharp mixture of crushing dismay, humiliation, and wounded pride flashed across her face.

He hadn’t even given her a second glance.

A suffocating silence immediately slammed back down over the floor. Brandy stood unmoving, deeply offended as she stared at the closed executive elevator like it had personally insulted her existence.

Then slowly, she exhaled through her nose. Her expression hardened from defeat into pure fury.

Spinning on her heel, she marched toward the standard employee elevator bay and aggressively slammed her thumb into the call button.

A few seconds passed.

Ding.

The mechanical tone sliced through the quiet, and the heavy metal doors slid open.

Brandy gasped, instinctively stepping back as the sheer, intimidating aura of the passengers hit her.

Two elite security personnel stepped out in unison. Unlike the front desk guards in standard blazers, these men were dressed in tactical black, the embossed crest of Blackwood Enterprises gleaming against their Kevlar vests.

Startled by their imposing size and cold expressions, Brandy instinctively stepped back.

The guards ignored her completely as they stepped forward, their attention locking onto Monroe.

“Sir.”

Monroe acknowledged them with a single nod before hauling Bill Franklin upright with controlled force.

Bill let out a broken sound as his knees nearly gave out beneath him, his expensive suit hanging off his body like a shroud.

“Alright,” Monroe muttered, steering him forward. “Move. You heard Mr. Blackwood.”

He paused briefly.

“Your clock is already ticking.”

Bill tried to speak, but only panic came out.

Monroe ignored it completely.

“Follow me,” he ordered the guards as he dragged Bill down the corridor toward his office.

When they reached the door, Monroe opened it and shoved Bill inside, not enough to hurt him -just enough to make him stumble.

Bill tripped forward, catching himself on the edge of his mahogany desk. The sudden loss of dignity seemed to ignite a final, desperate burst of delusion.

“You really screwed yourself this time, Bill.” Monroe clicked his tongue slowly. “Honestly, you should feel lucky the boss is even letting you pack.”

Bill’s chest heaved, his eyes wide and bloodshot against his pale face.

Bill choked on his next breath, his eyes darting frantically around the room.

“Pack your stuff,” Monroe commanded, his voice cold and flat. “And make sure absolutely nothing of yours is left behind. You heard the boss–not even a paperclip.”

Monroe looked Bill up and down one last time, from his sweating forehead down to his straining, ruined corporate attire.

The sheer pity in Monroe’s eyes was more insulting than a slap to the face.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify