The next morning at SV Corp, the "Elevator Incident" was the only thing anyone was whispering about. The rumors were already flying: Did you hear? The CEO carried the VP out. Where was the wife?
Catherine was summoned to Sebastian's office at 10:00 AM. She had brought her tablet, determined to show him the new sketches, to prove she was an asset to the company, not just a wife to be tolerated.
She walked in, her back straight, her left hand clutching the device.
Serena was there. Of course she was.
She was sitting on the sofa, looking pale and "brave." She wore a vintage Dior dress.
"Catherine," Serena said softly. "I wanted to apologize for last night. I just... the darkness... it triggers my PTSD."
Sebastian was standing by the window. He nodded approvingly. "See? She's trying to make amends."
Catherine felt numb. "It's fine." She walked to the desk and placed the tablet down, the screen displaying her latest design: The Mourning Gown.
"Let me pour you some coffee," Serena offered, standing up shakily. "It's the least I can do."
She walked to the coffee service on the sidebar. She lifted the heavy silver carafe.
Her hand "trembled."
It was theatrical. A slight shake that suddenly became a violent jerk.
The carafe tipped.
A wave of scalding hot coffee splashed across the desk.
Directly toward the tablet.
Catherine didn't think. She lunged.
She threw her left hand out to block the liquid, trying to save the device and the work on the screen.
The boiling coffee hit her hand and wrist.
Sizzle.
Pain, white-hot and blinding, seared through her nerves.
A few drops splashed onto the hem of Serena's skirt.
"Oh!" Serena gasped, jumping back. "My vintage Dior!"
Sebastian turned from the window. He saw the spilled coffee. He saw Serena clutching her skirt.
He rushed—straight to Serena.
"Are you burned?" he asked frantically, kneeling to check her legs. "Did it touch your skin?"
Catherine stood by the desk. The pain was absolute. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted iron. Instinctively, she shoved her burned hand behind her back, hiding the injury. She wouldn't scream. She wouldn't give Serena the satisfaction.
"It's just the fabric," Serena cried, tears welling up instantly. "But I'm so clumsy! I ruined it!"
"We'll replace the dress," Sebastian soothed her. "It's okay. You're okay."
He finally looked up at Catherine.
"Catherine," he said, his voice impatient. "Help her clean this up. Call the cleaners."
Catherine stared at him. Her hand throbbed violently behind her back, the skin already blistering in the silence.
"I can't," she said, her voice tight.
"What?" Sebastian frowned.
"I have to go."
She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed her coffee-stained tablet with her good hand and walked out of the office. She bypassed the first aid kit on the wall. She needed to get away before she passed out.
She ran into the executive bathroom and locked the door.
She dropped the tablet on the counter and turned on the tap, thrusting her burning hand under the cold water.
The relief was instant, but the tears finally came. They mixed with the tap water swirling down the drain.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror.
"I am invisible," she whispered.
It wasn't a complaint. It was a diagnosis.
