First Steps Into a Hidden World

I was awakened by a gentle knock on my bedroom door.

"Mia," called KC's familiar voice.

"Come in," I replied sleepily.

The door creaked open to reveal KC with her usual warm smile. She wore her crisp all-white uniform, her blonde hair perfectly pinned back. KC, though likely in her 40s, carried herself with such grace and youthfulness that she could easily pass for someone half her age. Her skin was fair and glowing, and the kindness in her hazel eyes made her feel more like family than staff.

"Mia, your dad said you need to get ready for breakfast. He mentioned there's an important meeting," she said while walking toward my bed.

She reached out and gently placed a hand on my head, a small gesture of affection that instantly calmed me. KC had been with us for as long as I could remember—practically raising me alongside my parents. I gave her a small nod in response.

I took a long shower, but my thoughts couldn't escape what had happened yesterday. Andreis… Angelo… I still didn't know what Andreis had been trying to tell me. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, trying to push the confusion away. A girl with brunette hair, soft brown eyes, and naturally flushed cheeks stared back at me.

Meeting? What kind of meeting could this be?

Did Dad find out about yesterday? Is that why he wants to talk?

I shook my head, hoping to push away the swarm of questions buzzing in my brain. I needed answers—but more than anything, I needed clarity.

I headed down to the kitchen, where Mom, Dad, and Marco were already seated. No Andreis. My eyes immediately darted to the empty seat beside Marco—Andreis' usual spot. Where was he?

Marco looked up and then glanced at the empty chair, almost like he could read my thoughts. His brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

"Mia, eat your breakfast. You're coming with me," said Dad firmly.

I quickly sat beside Marco and asked, "Where are we going?"

The delicious aroma of waffles hit me as soon as I sat. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now. After everything that happened yesterday, I'd barely eaten a thing.

I glanced at Marco. His expression was unreadable. Was he mad at me?

"We spoke with your mom," Dad began, placing his fork down. "You'll be doing your internship at the company."

My jaw dropped. In my shock, I fumbled my fork and nearly dropped the waffle I was about to take. All of yesterday's worries vanished in an instant. I stood up, heart racing with joy, and ran to my dad to hug him tightly.

"Really, Dad? Thank you! I promise I'll do my best!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around him.

I turned to Mom, who was beaming at us with a proud smile. I ran to hug her too.

"Thank you for listening to me, Mom."

Then I turned to Marco.

Still no reaction.

"Aren't you happy for me?" I teased, trying to crack his serious face.

"I'll be happy if you're not late on your first day," he replied dryly.

Ugh. Typical Marco.

I giggled and returned to my seat to finish my breakfast, grinning like a kid. I barely heard their conversation over the sound of my own excitement.

"We'll leave in five minutes," Dad said suddenly.

Wait—I can't wear this! I rushed upstairs to change.

I needed to make a good first impression.

For my first day office look, I chose a clean and simple outfit: a white blouse tucked into a soft beige pencil skirt that ended just above the knees. I paired it with nude low heels and a slim brown belt. No makeup, just a touch of rosy lipstick to liven up my pale complexion.

The ride to Dad's office was quiet. He was busy flipping through documents, too focused to speak. I sat beside him, jittery with anticipation.

I didn't even know what company my dad owned.

What if they didn't like me there?

The car pulled to a smooth stop in front of a tall, elegant building. We were greeted immediately.

"Good morning, Mr. Andrews," a woman said politely.

She looked like a classic executive assistant—poised and organized. Her brunette hair, styled into a neat low bun, shimmered under the morning light. Her hazelnut eyes looked so familiar—just like mine and Mom's. She wore a sleek navy sheath dress, paired with a beige blazer and nude pumps.

"Lara, this is Mia—my daughter," Dad said, taking the documents she handed him.

"Good morning, Ms. Andrews," she greeted with a bright smile.

"Mia," I corrected her. I didn't like being called that.

"Mia," she repeated with a nod and a wink.

Dad walked ahead, disappearing into the hallways. I followed Lara.

We passed a large, polished sign on the wall:

"Orion SynerTech: People, Purpose, Progress"

The logo was sleek, and the letters shone in brushed gold.

The office interior was breathtaking—modern, minimalist, and filled with light. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a stunning view of the city. Soft neutral tones, elegant lighting, glass doors, and gentle greenery made the whole place feel alive and professional.

My eyes darted around, overwhelmed and in awe. I must've looked like a wide-eyed tourist. My heart was pounding in my chest with anticipation.

"Mia," Lara said gently, holding out her hand to gesture forward. "This will be your desk. That room just ahead is Mr. Lavigne's office. Your desk was placed here so he can easily call on you when needed."

The desk was simple and neat—a white laminated table with a laptop, some basic supplies, and a comfy beige office chair. Just outside the glass wall was a modern door, labeled "Louis Lavigne – Executive Director."

"Mr. Lavigne?" I repeated, unsure.

"Yes. Mr. Andrews assigned you under him," she said with a smile as she turned to leave.

"O-okay. Thank you?" I replied, still trying to process everything.

I let out a soft sigh, unsure what was expected of me here. I was a ball of emotions—excited, nervous, curious.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

"Mia, right? I'm Louis. Lavigne," said a deep voice.

I turned quickly. Standing in front of me was a tall man, extending his hand. I quickly wiped my palm on my skirt before shaking his.

His presence was striking. His deep blue eyes—ocean blue—were just like Marco's. Just like Andreis's. Just like Angelo's.

And his arms… they were covered in intricate tattoos.

Something stirred inside me again.

Who exactly is Louis Lavigne?