Chapter 11: A Favor

The city was gray that morning. Not with rain, but with something heavier—like the weight of the night still hadn't lifted.

Emily walked into Walker & Co. just before eight, the same time she had every day since she was hired. But today, there was no quiet excitement in her steps. No small smile for the receptionist or light-hearted greetings from the other assistants. Her heels clicked against the marble floor like dull echoes, her shoulders tense beneath her coat.

She hadn't slept.

Not after what happened last night.

Her grandmother had collapsed shortly after dinner, a sudden shortness of breath followed by sharp pain in her chest. Emily had called an ambulance, hands trembling as she held her grandmother's hand and whispered, "It's okay, we're going to the hospital, they'll take care of you."

But they didn't. Not right away.

The moment they arrived at the emergency room, the nurse behind the glass window had asked the question that made Emily's stomach drop:

"Do you have insurance or will you be paying a deposit upfront?"

She didn't have either.

Not in the way they wanted.

They'd refused to begin proper treatment until at least a portion of the bill was paid. Emily had cried. Begged. Even offered to pay in installments. But all they gave her was a clipboard and a waiting list.

Her grandmother was stable for now. But every hour they waited was a risk.

Emily had spent the night making calls. Clinics. Charities. Banks. No one could help fast enough. And now, with red-rimmed eyes and a pit in her stomach, she was walking into the one place she didn't want to bring her personal life into.

But I have no choice.

She set her bag down quietly and began her tasks, keeping her routine like armor. Check emails. Print meeting summaries. Update Mr. Walker's schedule. Get his coffee — strong, black, exactly the way he liked it. Her hands barely shook as she set it down on his desk.

He didn't look up.

But she could feel his attention shift toward her as she turned to leave.

The day dragged forward, every task a distraction, every ticking second another reminder that her grandmother was lying in a hospital bed with no care, and it was her fault—because she didn't have money.

She had to ask.

By mid-afternoon, Emily stood outside his door, heart thumping like a drum against her ribs. She knocked twice.

"Come in."

Damian's voice, smooth but clipped, echoed through the glass-paneled door.

She entered, hands clasped tightly in front of her. He looked up from his laptop, brows slightly furrowed.

"I need to speak with you," she said softly.

He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Go ahead."

Emily sat down, legs stiff, eyes darting to the floor before meeting his.

"I—" she swallowed. "I know this is out of the ordinary, and I wouldn't ask unless it was urgent. But I was wondering if… if I could receive my paycheck early. Even just part of it."

Damian's expression didn't change. He leaned back slightly, arms folding. "Why?"

Emily hesitated, then forced the words out. "My grandmother… the one who raised me… she collapsed last night. She's in the hospital. But they won't begin full treatment unless I put down a deposit. I—I tried everything, but no one else can help right now."

He frowned, fingers steepled in front of his mouth.

"I don't do early paychecks," he said simply. "It sets a precedent."

Her face fell. "I understand, I just—she's all I have. It's my responsibility."

For the first time, something flickered across his face. It wasn't coldness. It wasn't annoyance. It was something more human. Complicated.

He stood and walked to the drawer behind his desk, silent.

"I'm not giving you an early paycheck," he said, reaching for a black checkbook. "but... I'll give you enough to cover everything."

Emily blinked, stunned. "What?"

He wrote a check of 20,000 dollars , tore it cleanly and handed it to her across the desk."Take it. It's yours".

Her hand trembled as she reached for it. "Mr. Walker, I—thank you, I don't know how to—"

"But," he interrupted, voice calm but firm, "you owe me a favor."

She paused. "A favor?"

"When I ask, you agree. No questions. No delay."

The words sent a flicker of unease through her, but desperation beat back her pride.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I agree."

He nodded once. "Then you're dismissed for the day. Go take care of your grandmother."

Emily stood slowly, still holding the check like it might disappear. "Thank you," she whispered, voice breaking. "I mean it. Thank you so much."

Damian didn't respond.

He simply watched her go.

The door closed behind her, and he was left alone in the silence of his office, guilt gnawing at him like it always did when it came to her.

He'd told himself he could stay detached. That giving her money was a rational business decision cloaked in convenience.

But as he watched her retreat — strong, proud, yet visibly shaken — he knew the truth.

He wasn't trying to be her savior.

He was already too far gone.