Chapter 4 Preparing
Lorna slept badly.
Not the kind of restless sleep that came and went through the night, but the heavy, suffocating kind where every dream felt like an argument that never ended.
When her alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., she was already awake, staring at the ceiling of her apartment.
Today.
The word sat in her chest like a stone.
Today she walked into Virelli Dynamics.
Today she started pretending.
She rolled onto her side and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. No messages. No missed calls.
For a moment she wondered if maybe her father had changed his mind.
The thought was almost funny.
He never changed his mind.
Lorna pushed herself out of bed and walked slowly toward the closet.
It wasn’t large — another reminder that despite her last name, she lived far more modestly than people expected.
Her father paid the rent, but everything else was hers.
Clothes.
Furniture.
Food.
The small life she had built outside his world.
She opened the closet door.
And froze.
What exactly did someone wear to infiltrate a rival corporation?
Her gaze moved across the hanging clothes.
Too casual.
Too formal.
Too polished.
Too desperate.
Her father had been very clear: she needed to appear normal.
Forgettable.
Harmless.
You’re underestimated.
The memory made her jaw tighten.
She pulled out three options and laid them across the bed.
A dark navy blazer and trousers.
A simple charcoal dress.
A cream blouse with tailored black pants.
She stared at them like they were test questions she hadn’t studied for.
If she dressed too professionally, she might seem calculated.
Too relaxed, and she might look unprepared.
God, she hated this.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself.
She picked up the cream blouse first.
Soft, professional, but not intimidating.
Then the black pants — structured but comfortable.
Finally, she added a light gray blazer.
Neutral.
Professional.
Unremarkable.
Perfect
Exactly what her father wanted.
The thought made something inside her twist again.
She changed slowly, checking the mirror several times without quite knowing what she was looking for.
Did she look like a spy?
Did she look guilty?
Did she look like a daughter trying desperately to prove she wasn’t useless?
Her reflection didn’t answer.
She pulled her hair back into a loose, neat style and applied minimal makeup.
By the time she finished, it was 7:45.
Her interview wasn’t until nine.
Her stomach was already tight.
She walked into the kitchen and poured herself coffee, though she doubted she’d actually drink it.
The city outside her window was just starting to wake up — traffic building, people hurrying along sidewalks with that familiar weekday urgency.
Normal lives.
Normal jobs.
No corporate espionage.
Lucky them.
Her phone buzzed suddenly against the counter.
Her chest tightened.
Dad.
Of course.
She stared at the screen for a moment before answering.
“Hello.”
“I assume you’re awake,” her father said.
No greeting.
Just expectation.
“Yes.”
“You have the interview at nine.”
“I know.”
Silence filled the line briefly.
Then he said, “What are you wearing?”
She blinked.
“A blouse. Black pants. A blazer.”
“Good.”
She could practically hear him evaluating the image in his mind.
“You need to appear capable but not threatening,” he continued. “They must see you as useful, not suspicious.”
“I understand.”
“You need this position.”
His tone had sharpened slightly.
“I know.”
“Don’t let me down, Lorna.”
The words landed heavier than anything else he had said.
Not good luck.
Not do your best.
Don’t let me down.
Her throat tightened.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Silence stretched between them.
The line went dead.
Lorna lowered the phone slowly.
For a moment she just stood there, staring at nothing.
Then she muttered under her breath, “No pressure.”
Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.
This time the name on the screen made her shoulders relax.
Cathy.
She opened the message
Cathy:
Big day today. You’re going to walk in there, charm them, and get that job. I believe in you.
Lorna felt something warm spread through her chest.
Another message appeared.
Cathy:
Also remember: if anyone tries to intimidate you, imagine them wearing crocs.
Lorna laughed softly.
Trust Cathy to make her smile five minutes after her father had made her feel like a liability.
She typed back quickly.
Lorna:
Crocs noted. Corporate intimidation neutralized.
Cathy:
You’ve got this.
Lorna put the phone down and took a long breath.
Okay.
She could do this.
It was just an interview.
Not espionage.
Not betrayal.
Just a conversation.
She grabbed her bag, checked that her résumé was inside, and headed for the door.
As she stepped outside, the morning air felt cool against her face.
Her stomach flipped as she hailed a cab.
“Virelli Dynamics,” she told the driver.
The ride took twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of watching the city pass by while her mind replayed everything her father had said.
Don’t let me down.
Make it work.
You’re underestimated.
By the time the car pulled up in front of the building, her heart was racing.
The headquarters of Virelli Dynamics rose above the street in sleek glass and steel.
It wasn’t flashy.
But it was impressive.
And suddenly it felt very real.
This wasn’t a hypothetical plan anymore.
She paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Employees moved in and out of the building with purpose.
Smart. Focused.
People who actually belonged here.
Her palms felt slightly damp.
What if she walked in and they immediately knew?
What if her last name was enough to expose everything?
She took a deep breath and walked through the doors.
The lobby was bright and open, sunlight pouring through massive windows.
The receptionist looked up with a polite smile.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Lorna said. “I’m here for an interview. Lorna Calloway.”
The receptionist typed something quickly.
Then she looked back up.
“Yes, Ms. Calloway. Mr. Virelli is expecting you.”
Lorna’s stomach dropped.
Mr. Virelli himself?
Her father had said HR would deal with it.
“Right this way.”
An assistant appeared and guided her toward the elevators.
As the doors closed and the numbers climbed, Lorna’s pulse beat louder in her ears.
This was it.
No turning back.
The elevator reached the top floor.
The doors opened.
The hallway outside the executive offices was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that came with expensive carpets and thick glass walls designed to keep conversations private.
Lorna followed the assistant past several closed doors, each labeled with departments and senior executives.
Strategy.
Development.
Energy Systems.
Every step made her more aware of the weight of what she was doing.
She wasn’t just applying for a job.
She was stepping into enemy territory.
The assistant stopped outside a large office at the end of the hall.
The assistant knocked once before opening the door.
“Ms. Calloway is here.”
“Send her in.”
The voice was deeper than she expected.
Her pulse quickened.
She stepped inside.
And immediately realized the office was enormous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the back wall, flooding the room with natural light.
The desk was sleek and modern, papers arranged in careful order.
And standing near the window—
Was him.
Adrian Virelli.
