Chapter 53: Emergency
The clock on Bella’s desk ticked too loudly in the silence of her small office. Her fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard as she tried to concentrate on the latest report Jake had asked her to finalize.
Numbers swam before her eyes, black lines blurring against white. She had barely finished her coffee, and her head throbbed with the familiar ache that came when she worried too much.
She had only just reached for her pen when her phone buzzed sharply against the desk. The screen lit up with the name of Timothy’s school.
Her heart plummeted. Why were they calling her? Was Timothy fine?
Bella snatched the phone so fast it nearly slipped from her hands. "Hello?" Her voice came out breathless, almost fearful.
"Miss Howells?" It was the school nurse, a woman whose calm tone did little to steady Bella’s racing pulse. "I’m afraid Timothy had a fall from the playground wing during recess. He’s shaken up, and we’ve had the doctor look him over. Nothing seems broken, but we would like you to come right away."
The words felt like ice pressing into Bella’s skin. Timothy—her little boy—hurt? She could picture him, wide-eyed and trying to be brave, holding back tears just like he always did when he thought she might worry too much.
"Yes—yes, of course. I’ll be there immediately," Bella managed, her voice cracking under the weight of panic. She hung up with trembling hands.
What could have happened to make him fall? Though they had said it wasn’t that serious, she just couldn’t help but worry.
Her mind began to spin. She had to leave. Right now. But Jake. What would she tell him?
Her gaze flickered toward the frosted glass wall separating her office from his. He hated disruptions, hated excuses, and most of all, hated when employees put their "personal issues" above work. He had said that much in passing more than once.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry as dust. What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t tell him about Timothy and if she told him personal issues, Jake would never understand. He’d see her as unreliable, and a liability. Someone who couldn’t keep her personal life out of the company’s demanding pace.
Her hand pressed against her chest as if she could calm her racing heart. A lie, she thought. She needed a believable lie. Maybe she could say her sister Rachel had collapsed. Or maybe—
"Is everything alright?"
The voice froze her. Smooth, cool, and deep. The voice belonged to Jake.
She turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat. He was standing right outside her office, one hand braced casually against the frame.
His eyes—those steady, unreadable gray eyes—were fixed on her face.
Her lips parted, but for a moment, words refused to come. "I—um—"
Jake raised a brow, his gaze narrowing slightly, though his tone was softer than usual. "What happened? You look really worried "
Bella swallowed. Her palms were slick with sweat. This was the moment she had dreaded—the moment when she would have to explain the unexplainable. Yet something about his expression stopped her. He wasn’t cold. He wasn’t angry. If anything, there was something close to concern flickering there, quickly masked by his usual reserve.
Was he worried for him? She shouldn’t be thinking that. She should be thinking of what to say to him to make him let her go attend to her son.
"It’s... an emergency," Bella said finally, her voice low, careful. She didn’t trust herself to say more.
Jake studied her for a moment longer, and she braced herself for the inevitable interrogation: What kind of emergency? Where are you going? How long will you be gone?
But the words never came.
Instead, he nodded once, brisk and decisive. "Go. Don’t bother coming back today. Take the rest of the day off and take care of whatever emergency it is."
Bella blinked, taken back by his response. "What?"
Nothing would’ve braced her for that response.
"You heard me," he said, his tone returning to its usual clipped efficiency, though she swore she saw something softer in his eyes. "Whatever it is, handle it. I can handle everything for today. I mean, I’ve been doing that before you came," he added with a shrug.
Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. She wanted to ask why—why he, of all people, was suddenly so accommodating—but the clock in her mind screamed that every second wasted was a second Timothy needed her.
"Thank you," she breathed, her relief spilling out in a rush. "I’ll... I’ll be back tomorrow."
He gave her a short nod, already turning away. "Good. Go."
Bella grabbed her bag with shaking hands and hurried out, her heels clattering against the polished floor. Even as she rushed toward the elevator, her thoughts tangled like threads.
Was he really that nice? Or was Chloe right—did he only extend kindness because he liked her?
Her mind flashed back to years ago, when he’d offered to give her the money she needed without repayment but she’d refused, pride and fear binding her, but the gesture had stayed with her. Even though she hated him for lying to her and changing the course of her life, she would never forget that gesture.
Maybe he was that nice. Maybe, beneath all the cold professionalism and the way he rattled her, there was something decent in him.
Bella exhaled shakily as she entered the elevator, her reflection staring back at her in the mirrored walls. "Thank God he didn’t ask," she whispered. "Thank God."
Still, unease prickled her skin. What if he asked tomorrow? What lie could she come up with that wouldn’t unravel the secret of their past? She needed to prepare, needed to protect her secret. For Timothy’s sake, for her sake, she couldn’t let her personal life bleed into the office.
As the elevator doors slid shut, Bella pressed her bag tighter to her chest. "I’ll think of something," she told herself firmly. "I always do."
Back upstairs, Jake stood by his office window, staring out at the skyline but not seeing it. His mind was elsewhere—back in Bella’s office, in the echo of her panicked voice.
An emergency.
The word gnawed at him. He knew she didn’t have a mother—Bella had told him she lost her mother five years ago. And Chloe, her best friend, was still very much at StoneTech, working only a floor below. So who could it have been? Who was important enough to her that her voice had broken with fear?
His jaw tightened, his hands slipping into his pockets. For all the time she had worked under him, Isabella Howells remained an enigma. Polite. Efficient. Almost invisible when she wanted to be. And yet today, in that fleeting moment, he had seen something raw beneath the calm mask she wore.
It unsettled him.
And for reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely, it made him want to know more.