Page 69 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

I don’t look up as he passes and just keep my eyes fixed on my screen and my fingers moving across the keyboard, every line of my body communicating that I am working and he is irrelevant.

From the corner of my eye, I see him pause for just a second before he continues to his office, the glass door closing behind him.

But the thing is, he’s not irrelevant. He’s the reason I’m wearing these stupid clothes today, and it makes me angry that he gets to dictate even a single thing about me.

He can fuck right off.

At some point Celine glances toward an empty desk across the room and clicks her tongue softly. “Angela’s not in yet,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. “That’s not like her.”

I tuck the detail away. Probably nothing. But people who break their routines are worth watching.

At noon, the usual lunch exodus begins. People gather their wallets, some heading down to the canteen, others driving out to the little town ten minutes down the road. Celine and I are partway down the corridor when I dig for my wallet and realize I must have left it at my desk.

“Go on ahead,” I tell Celine. “I’ve left my wallet at my desk. I’ll only be a second.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” she says, and carries on toward the canteen.

I make my way back. The marketing wing is empty, the lunch crowd already gone.

I’m almost to my own desk when I hear voices.

They’re coming from Finn’s office. The door is slightly ajar, unusual for him, and through the gap, I can see two figures. Finn behind his desk and Angela, sitting in the chair across from him, her face buried in her hands.

I should leave. This is clearly a private conversation, none of my business, and Sophie Dysart would never eavesdrop on her boss.

But I’m not Sophie Dysart. I’m a trained operative, and trained operatives gather information. All information. Even the kind that isn’t meant for them.

I move silently to the side of the door, positioning myself where I can hear without being seen.

“—take the rest of the day off.” Finn’s voice, but not the tone he uses with me. This is softer. “Go home, Angela. That’s an order.”

“I can’t.” Angela’s voice is thick with tears. “There’s the Henderson proposal, and the budget review, and⁠—”

“The Henderson proposal can wait. So can the budget review.” He pauses. “How long have you worked here, Angela?”

“Six years.”

“Six years. And in all that time, have you ever taken a sick day?”

Angela doesn’t answer, but I can hear her sniffle.

“Exactly. You’ve never been sick, and you’ve never missed a deadline.” His voice is firm but kind. “So I’m telling you. Take the sick leave. Take a few days. A week, or even a few weeks if you need it. You’ve more than earned it.”

Angela makes a choked sound, half laugh, half sob. “It’s my mother. She’s in the hospital. They found something in her lungs, and they’re not sure yet what it is, and I—” Her voice breaks completely.

“I’m sorry,” Finn says. “I’m so sorry, Angela. Family comes first. That’s the most important thing.”

“I just feel so helpless. She’s always been so strong. And now she’s lying in that bed, hooked up to all those machines, and there’s nothing I can do⁠—”

“Which hospital?”

“Lakeside General.”

He goes quiet for a moment. “What did the doctors say? What are they looking at?”

“They think it might be—” Angela takes a shaky breath. “They think it might be lung cancer. They’re doing more tests, but...”

“I know someone.” Finn’s voice has changed, suddenly becoming more deliberate. “He’s one of the best oncologists in the country, specializes in exactly this kind of case. Let me give him a call.”