Chapter 6: Flirting, Files, and the Forgotten Founder

Lila hadn't meant to press the elevator button at the exact same time as Victor Sterling. She also hadn't meant to drop the haunted file, trip over absolutely nothing, and then launch herself forward like a wind-up toy with poor balance—only to nearly headbutt her boss in the sternum.

And yet—ta-da—here they were.

"Sorry!" she yelped, flailing backward with all the grace of a panicked pigeon.

Victor, who seemed physically incapable of flinching, merely raised one refined brow. "You seem... off today."

Just today? Lila thought darkly. She offered him a smile that felt like it had been stapled on. "New shoes."

He glanced down at her scuffed flats like they'd personally offended him. "Ah."

The elevator doors slid open with a cheery ding. She bolted inside like it was a lifeboat. He followed at a much more reasonable pace.

They stood in silence.

Except the silence wasn't really silent.

Lila could feel the file burning in her hands. She'd barely slept last night after seeing that pale face in her bedroom mirror. She hadn't told Sasha everything—only that the file gave her the creeps and maybe murdered her sleep schedule. Sasha had teased her, as usual, then reminded her she should've left the cursed thing in the office like a normal haunted secretary.

She would now. She was returning the file to the deepest, darkest corner of the storage room and pretending it never existed.

Her fingers shifted around the edges of the folder, knuckles pale. Victor noticed.

"You're holding that like it's going to explode," he remarked.

Lila let out a nervous laugh. "Just... very committed to paperwork."

Victor turned his head slightly, eyeing her with that unreadable gaze of his. "You always act like I'm about to grade your performance."

"I don't!" she said, a little too fast.

His mouth quirked at the corner. "You do."

The elevator hummed softly beneath their feet. A quiet space. Enclosed. Tense.

Lila's breath caught when their arms brushed—just lightly—but enough to make her acutely aware of how close they were. She shifted, trying to give him space and accidentally bumped into the mirrored wall instead.

Smooth.

Victor glanced over again. This time, there was something different in his eyes. Not amusement. Not judgment. Just... awareness.

"You're always this jumpy?" he asked quietly.

"Only when I'm carrying cursed documents and standing next to my boss," she said, trying for humor.

His gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary.

"I hope it's not the company that's cursed," he said, voice low, the faintest trace of something teasing behind the deadpan.

Lila stared at the floor numbers like they might save her. "Just the paperwork, I think. You're safe."

The ding of the elevator saved her from combusting.

They stepped out. She held the file to her chest like it might bite her otherwise. Victor walked beside her, quiet and tall, casting a shadow that felt far too intense for a Monday.

The hallway twisted toward the records wing, which was always freezing—because of ghosts or poor insulation, take your pick.

She cleaned her desk and took a deep breath before opening the file.

"Stoic boss with a haunted grandfather. Great," she thought.

Lila didn't know much about his grandfather, and curiosity got the better of her. She began thinking of ways to dig up more information.

Obviously, she couldn't summon him—this was still an office, and lighting incense or chanting strange prayers would definitely make her look unhinged.

Instead, she did what any modern woman with unresolved ghost trauma would do.

She Googled.

While pretending to review project timelines on her second monitor, Lila opened a new tab and typed: Victor R. Sterling Sr. obituary.

Her fingers moved fast, jittery from too much office coffee and not enough sleep. Around her, keyboards clacked, a phone rang three desks down, and someone in accounting let out an annoyed sigh loud enough to rattle morale.

She Googled: Can ghosts haunt files?

Then, with even less shame: Signs your document is spiritually occupied.

A notification pinged. She ignored it. 

"She was mid-scroll through ghost forums when her cubicle neighbor sneezed loud enough to scare the soul out of her—again."

None of the articles helped unless she was planning to cleanse her inbox with moon water or draw a protective sigil on the office printer.

But then—after twenty minutes of obsessive spiraling and one Reddit thread titled The Forgotten Founder Of Sterling & Co—she struck gold.

An old photo—grainy, scanned, and yellowed—popped up on a local business history site.

Victor Sterling Sr. stood in front of the original Sterling & Co. building, back when it still had brick walls and a real fax machine. He looked stern but kind-eyed, his name listed in a plaque below the image.

Victor Raymond Sterling, Founder. Died in 1997, days before a major merger.

And below that:

"Survived by his daughter and newborn grandson, Victor Jr., whom he never had the chance to meet."

Lila leaned back, her stomach flipping.

That was it. The connection.

He never met Victor Jr.

He was probably working on that final report—her haunted report—when he died. And now he was… stuck. Watching. Waiting. Still trying to finish something or pass it on.

"Okay," she whispered. "That's just sad. Weird and sad. A bureaucratic ghost with family regrets."

"Excuse me?"

Lila nearly threw her keyboard across the room.

Victor Sterling stood at her desk.

Looking confused.

And alarmingly handsome.

She shot up so fast she knocked over her water bottle. "Nothing! Not sad! Just—uh—ghosts. Files. General sadness in... spreadsheets."

Victor raised a single brow. The judgment in it could curdle milk.

"Right," he said slowly. "Just checking if you had the updated figures for the Dyer account."

"I do!" she squeaked. "Very un-haunted figures. Just give me… two minutes."

He gave her a long look, as if trying to decode whatever mental glitch she was currently experiencing. Then he nodded and turned away.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Your grandfather was the founder, right?"

Victor paused.

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh, just… uh…" Her brain panicked. "There's a photo of him in the archives. Very photogenic for a businessman. Good posture."

He stared at her.

She was going to die of embarrassment. Possibly before the ghost even got to her.

"Okay then," he said, backing away slowly. "Let me know when the Dyer file is ready."

He left. Lila dropped into her chair like a deflated balloon.

Smooth. Truly smooth.

The ghost of Victor Sr. wasn't the only one stuck in unfinished business. Apparently, she was now emotionally haunting her boss, too.