The reception area of the CEO’s suite was sleek and modern, a stark contrast to the woman standing at the desk. Seraphina Rivers, released early from prison due to overcrowding, looked nothing like the polished executive she had once been. Her clothes were cheap, her hair dull, but her eyes were still sharp.
“I have an appointment,” Seraphina lied.
“Mr. Fotheringham doesn’t see–“
The doors to the inner office opened. Malcolm stepped out, freezing when he saw her. He knew her file. The fraud. The fake cancer. The “Survivor”.
“Security,” Malcolm signaled.
“Wait,” Seraphina said quickly, stepping closer. She lowered her voice. “You’re trying to rebrand a company that is currently on fire. You need a distraction. And looking at you…” She scanned his face, noting the grayish undertone of his skin and the faint tremor in his hand. “You look pale, Mr. CEO. You look like a man who needs someone else to stand in the spotlight while he hides in the dark”.
Malcolm paused. He signaled security to stand down. He looked at this desperate, clawing creature and saw a utility.
“My office,” Malcolm ordered. “If you bore me, I send you back to jail.”
“I never bore anyone,” Seraphina smiled, walking past him. She had secured her lifeline: a “public face” role to distract the press from Malcolm’s ruthless dismantling of the company.