“It has to be Laurel,” Rebekah declared suddenly from her bed, her voice slicing through the quiet of our dorm room.

I’d just finished my morning classes while she was fresh from a trip back home — a mere fifteen minutes from campus, though she’d chosen dorm life to get the ‘full college experience.’

Honestly, I couldn’t fathom swapping family dinners and familiar walls for cramped dorm rooms and random roommates.

“Will you at least listen to the audio, Care?” Her gray eyes narrowed, a stubborn crease forming between her brows as she tucked a loose strand of icy blonde hair behind one ear.

I shook my head, pushing off my reluctance. “No thanks. That dress from Laurel’s birthday party years ago gave me the creeps enough.”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine, but don’t come crying when you have no topic for the frat party next weekend.”

“Frat party?” I frowned, caught off guard.

“Yes, the one we’re going to,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“No way. I’m not going anywhere near a party. You just get drunk, ignore me, and then I’m alone with no one to talk to.”

“Okay, fine,” Rebekah conceded, throwing up her hands. “This time, I promise to hook you up with someone before the drinks take over.”

I gave her a skeptical look. “How are you even back so early? Didn’t you have family dinner plans tonight?”

She shrugged with a smirk. “Yeah, until my cousin turned up with her toddler. Realized I was basically the designated babysitter for the human pukebucket, so I made a strategic exit.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “That’s pretty rude.”

“Not as rude as soaking my ‘New Minion’ T-shirt in baby barf.”

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Blake, Rebekah’s older brother.

“Mr. Andrews,” I answered, maintaining the respectful tone I always used with him.

Rebekah cringed beside me, pretending to gag. She always got a kick out of how formal I was with Blake.

“Caroline,” his voice came through, calm but a little strained. “First, you can call me Blake. Second, I need a favor during your college hours.”

“Sure, Blake. What do you need?”

“Can you swing by Sinclair Enterprises and pick up those shipment files I mentioned yesterday?”

“No problem.”

A sudden wail shattered the line — a piercing scream and garbled baby noises.

“Oh God, shut up!” Blake groaned, struggling to be heard over the racket. Then I caught a few words amidst the chaos: “Meet... Mr. Wee... zon.”

Before I could ask for clarification, the call cut off.

Mr. Wee...zon? Seriously? Guess I’ll have to ask around once I get there.

With Rebekah engrossed in her YouTube rabbit hole, I headed out from our dorm, the late afternoon sun dipping lower in the sky.

The bus ride was a tedious hour — a frustrating contrast to the twenty-minute drive by car.

The gleaming lobby of Sinclair Enterprises sprawled before me, its floor tiles polished to a mirror shine, and the hum of quiet conversations and clicking keyboards filled the air.

Approaching the reception desk, I introduced myself and explained my errand.

“Hi,” said a voice behind me.

Turning, I met a woman with sleek raven hair and a sharp, professional look, dressed impeccably in corporate attire.

“I’m Penny Woods, Mr. Sinclair’s assistant. Nice to meet you, Caroline.” She smiled warmly, gesturing for me to follow her.

I hesitated briefly, debating if I should ask about Mr. Wee...zon, but decided to stay quiet for now and follow her lead.

The elevator ride was quiet, the slight chime marking each floor as we ascended.

At the corridor’s end, Penny’s phone buzzed. She glanced apologetically at me. “I’m so sorry, can you go ahead?”

“Sure,” I replied, offering a small smile as I continued down a set of stairs.

At the bottom, two office doors stood side-by-side: one labeled Mr. Wilson, the other, Mr. Winson.

My brow furrowed in confusion. Which one was I supposed to find?

Penny was nowhere in sight—her phone call had whisked her away.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the slightly ajar door of Mr. Wilson’s office.

Inside, rows of computer monitors blinked to life, stacks of files cluttering the desks — definitely an important space, especially with the swipe card lock just outside.

But I had no clue which files were the shipment files Blake wanted.

“Hey!” a sharp voice called behind me.

I turned to see Penny hurrying down the stairs, her expression a mix of panic and frustration.

“Thief!” she shouted suddenly.

I blinked, stunned, as she rushed forward, only to misstep halfway down and tumble painfully down the remaining stairs.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, rushing to her side.

Her forehead was already bleeding, crimson stark against her pale skin.

I reached for my handkerchief when a man appeared, his intense gaze locking onto me.

“Step away from her. Now.” His voice was low but commanding.

Startled, I obeyed, taking a cautious step back as he carefully lifted Penny into his arms.

Another man arrived, speaking hurriedly to the first. “Ryan, get her to the hospital. I’ll stay here.”

He then turned to me, eyes sharp but oddly reassuring. “I’ll take care of her while you’re here.”

My heart hammered in my chest as I processed his words. ‘Take care of her?’ What exactly did that mean? Was I in trouble?

Thankfully, it turned out to mean waiting in a sterile office room, the hours stretching endlessly as Penny underwent treatment.

The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, accompanied by the soft beep of medical machines and the distant murmur of office life beyond the hospital walls.

The man who had stayed behind introduced himself simply as Ryan, his demeanor calm and professional, a stark contrast to the frantic energy swirling in my mind.

As I waited, questions tumbled inside me — about Penny’s accident, about Blake’s mysterious message, and about the strange, protective intensity of Ryan.

But one thing was clear: today would be anything but ordinary.