Page 12 of The Firefighter's Fate

It’s a big room, that’s for sure. Wall-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city. One large mahogany desk that stretches intimidatingly in front of me. Waylen is a billionaire who wants to revel in his otherworldly power and influence. This is a man who controls a media empire that can topple governments with just a single hard-hitting article and who can bring down a country’s central bank with a mere sharp headline. He can cause wars and famine and peace with a simple stroke of a pen.

Waylen wants you to know that when you step inside his skyscraper office you are meeting a VERY IMPORTANT PERSON.

The man himself is standing by one of the windows, his back turned to me formidably. He’s like a god looking out over his domain from the tallest tower of his castle.

Should I say something or...

The receptionist leaves me in the lion's den. She retreats back until she’s closing the door from the other side, initiating me to be totally alone with Waylen Penmayne.

With the doors shut, the billionaire finally turns around to face me.

He is more handsome in person than he appears in photos. A real silver fox stands in front of me. Tall. Stately. His face is chiseled. His eyes are sharp and intelligent. His silver hair is in a perfect quiff. He wears a black suit, expertly tailored.

“Ember Mortensen,” he purrs in a smooth, deep baritone.

Oh, he knows my name?

“Mr. Penmayne.”

He nods toward his desk with a slight turn upwards of his lips.

“Please take a seat, Ember.”

I shuffle over and sit down opposite him. Waylen slowly takes his own place behind the threatening desk. I notice a printout of my latest published article resting in front of me. It’s clear he must’ve read it.

This doesn’t feel good.

Why else would he read my writing?

I can’t help but think of the people who have been summoned up here to get unceremoniously fired in the most devasting of ways.

Is that what’s happening to me right now?

Beside my laid-out article is a photo frame containing an image of the Penmayne family. There are seven boys in the picture with a younger-looking Waylen and his wife. They’re all smiling. A big, happy family. I can’t help but notice no daughters. He has a lot of sons, that’s for sure.

Waylen takes his time to speak again. He stares at me. I don’t know if I should open my mouth first or let him do what he wants to do.

“You’ve been brought to my attention, Ember,” he finally mutters darkly.

Okay, now I’m scared.

“Um, whatever it is you’ve heard about me, it’s a lie,” I say.

I let out a little squeak of a giggle. I’m trying to joke around, but Waylen has no time for my jokes. He cuts me off sharply.

“Do you know anything about Connor Penmayne?” he asks.

My eyes narrow.

“Connor? Your son?”

Waylen leans back in his chair.

“He doesn’t want to be part of the family anymore,” he says. “Have you heard about that?”

I shake my head.

“I don’t really go in for tabloid gossip,” I explain.

---