Charismatic and successful, yet… aloof.
To me, he was simply “Mr. Blake.” Just my boss. Nothing more.
Then came Thursday.
I had a stack of documents needing his signature, so I went to his office.
He wasn’t in, so I left the papers on his desk. But then… something caught my eye.
There, on his typically immaculate desk, sat a framed picture of me.
It was indeed a photo of me—one I couldn’t even place, as if it had been taken when I wasn’t aware. Yet it was unmistakably me.
And around the edges were words written in his distinct handwriting.
“My Dream.”
My heart raced so hard I thought it might explode.
What is this? I wondered. Why… Why does he have this?
My hands shook as I grasped the frame, my mind teeming with frantic questions.
Before I could even start to process it, the door swung open behind me. It was Mr.
Blake—he halted in the doorway upon seeing me clutching the photo.
His expression changed, a blend of surprise and… something darker.
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