Page 42 of Bossalicious Bad Boy

"Your father," I seethe, "he was responsible for ruining my father, and now you've got me here, working under you like some sort of pawn." My chest heaves as I struggle to control my emotions. "And don't act like you didn't know. Those files –" I jab a finger towards his desk, where I'd found the damning evidence.

"Files?" Alexander looks genuinely confused, his eyes darting between me and the desk. "I have no idea what you're talking about. And I didn't even know who your father was."

"Of course you'd say that," I snap, my inner turmoil manifesting as anger. "But it doesn't change the fact that you hired me to be your intern, knowing full well the connection between our families."

"Clara," he says, running a hand through his hair, looking more flustered than I've ever seen him, "I swear, I had no idea. If there's something in those files that connects our fathers, I wasn't aware of it. You have to believe me."

For a moment, I want to. I want to believe that this man, who's been nothing but kind and supportive during my internship, isn't just using me to make amends for something he didn't do. But the evidence is right there on his desk, and my heart can't forget the pain of betrayal.

"Whether you knew or not doesn't change the fact that our families are connected in a way neither of us can escape," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the situation bears down on me. "And it's hard for me to believe you didn't know anything about it."

"Clara," Alexander says, his voice full of sincerity, "I promise you, I had no idea. And I'm so sorry for any pain my father may have caused yours." His eyes hold mine, pleading for understanding, but all I can think about is the shattered image of my own father and the man who destroyed him.

"Sorry doesn't change anything," I say, turning away from him, my shoulders slumped in defeat. The truth is, I don't know what I want or what I need to heal. But I do know one thing: forgiveness isn't something I can offer right now.

"Clara, please, listen to me. I'm not lying," Alexander says, his voice filled with desperation and vulnerability that I've never heard from him before.

My breaths come in shallow gasps, my chest tight with a mix of anger and heartache. I look into his eyes, trying to find some semblance of the boss I thought I knew. "How can I believe you? After everything I just found out?" My voice trembles, betraying the storm of emotions brewing inside me.

"Because it's the truth," he insists, his eyes never leaving mine. "I didn't know, Clara. I swear."

"Then how do you explain these files?" I ask, my anger flaring as I gesture toward the damning evidence on his desk. "A neat little package outlining my father's downfall, courtesy of your father. And now you want me to believe that you're innocent in all this?"

"Clara, I—" Alexander begins, but I cut him off.

"No! I can't trust you," I burst out, my words laced with bitterness. "You say you didn't know, but it's just too convenient, isn't it? First, your father destroys mine, and then you swoop in and offer me an internship at your company. It's like some sick joke!"

"Clara, I would never do that to you," Alexander pleads, crossing the room to try and comfort me, but his proximity only fuels my agitation.

"Stay away from me!" I shout, taking a step back to put distance between us. "I can't stand to be near you anymore."

"Please, Clara. I don't want to lose your friendship over something I had no part in," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. But the hurt is too raw, the betrayal too fresh for me to consider his feelings.

"Friendship?" I spit the word out like it's poison on my tongue. "You think we can still be friends after this? After what your family did to mine?"

"Clara, I'm not my father," he tries to reason, but I've reached my breaking point.

"Maybe not," I say, my voice cold and hard. "But right now, all I see when I look at you is the son of the man who destroyed my family. And that's not something I can just forget."

"Are you quitting?" Alexander's question interrupts my seething thoughts, making me take a deep breath and consider the implications.

"I... I don't know," I admit, feeling the anger recede slightly, replaced by an uncomfortable uncertainty. "I need to think about it."

"Clara," he says, his voice softer now, earnest and genuine. "Don't make any rash decisions based on emotions. I understand that you're hurt, but we both know that you worked hard to get this internship. Don't throw it all away over something that happened in the past. Let's work through this together."

"Work through it?" I scoff, incredulous at his suggestion. The anger still simmers beneath the surface, but his words force me to pause. He's right; I did work hard for this opportunity. But can I really continue working here, knowing what I know?

"Look," he continues, sensing my hesitation. "I won't pretend to know how you feel right now. But I do care about you, and I don't want you to do something you'll regret later. Take some time to think it over. I'll give you space, okay?"

"Space?" I repeat, considering the concept. My fists unclench as I weigh my options, feeling the first tendrils of relief at the thought of having time to process everything. "Yeah, okay. Space."

"Good," he nods, his eyes conveying a mix of concern and understanding. "Take as much time as you need. If you decide to leave, I won't hold it against you. But if you choose to stay, we'll figure out a way to move past this. Together."

"Thank you," I mutter, hating how vulnerable I sound but grateful for his willingness to let me find my own path forward. As I turn to leave his office, I can't help but wonder if our friendship will ever be the same, or if the wounds inflicted by our families' histories are simply too deep to heal.

As I exit Alexander's office, the door closing behind me with a soft click, my mind races, churning over the revelations and our unresolved tension. The murmur of office chatter fills the air, but it washes over me as if I'm encased in a glass bubble. Isolation seeps through my veins, making each step feel heavier than the last.

"Clara? Are you okay?" Ruby, approaches from her desk, her brow furrowed in concern.

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