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by Author vicky
11/24/25
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CHAPTER ONE

"Martha Smith? Is that you?"

The deep voice echoed from the other side of the restroom.

Startled, Martha quickly clipped her stomach belt and stepped into the light, squinting to see who it was.

Her heart sank.

It was him again...Dave Benson.

The maniac.

The illegitimate son of the CEO of Carter Organization.

Her pulse quickened instantly.

Dave had that same obsessive stare she dreaded...the one that always made her skin crawl.

He started toward her.

She stepped back, panic tightening her chest.

Suddenly, a firm hand caught hers.

She turned sharply...

Fred Thompson.

Her breath trembled with relief.

Fred had come to her rescue, as always.

He knew exactly who Dave was...and what he was capable of.

Fred’s eyes hardened as he faced Dave.

"What are you doing near the female restroom?"

Dave froze, visibly uneasy.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Martha’s heart was still pounding.

Of all the problems she faced at Carter Organization, Dave Benson was the worst of them.

Fred picked up her bag and gestured toward his car outside.

They walked in silence.

Inside the car, they didn't speak for a long moment.

Then, softly, Fred asked,

"How have you been?"

She exhaled.

"I’ve been… well."

He studied her face.

"Did Lizzy give you a hard time again?"

Martha groaned.

"She wants me to work as fast as Nana with the calculations, but I can’t push myself beyond my limits. I wish someone would just see that I’m trying my best."

Fred smiled faintly.

"No one? What about me? I see everything you don’t even see. I see a great woman who’s going to command organizations someday."

She gave a weary laugh.

"That gives you fulfillment, but it doesn’t..."

"Martha!" he cut her off, frustration edging his tone.

"Stop looking down on yourself! Lizzy, Nana, even Gabriella...none of them is better than you! You’re more intelligent than all of them!"

Her gaze softened.

"You still love Gabriella, don’t you?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Why do you always bring that up?"

"Because ever since she started working here three years ago, you’ve made me do everything she does. It’s like you’re trying to prove something to her through me."

He looked straight at her.

"I love you, Martha. Whether you believe it or not, I do. And all I want is what’s best for you."

Tears welled in her eyes.

"But Fred, you know this isn’t what’s best for me… I..."

"Are we still going through this cooking thing? Are we really going through that again?" His tone turned sharp as he continued. "Your parents were both cooks at Lasagna Restaurant. And what happened? They died in that train accident...wretched and helpless! I know how much that traumatized you, but I just want us to walk this path of wealth together..."

"Don’t!" she snapped, tears streaming now."Don’t ever bring my parents into this! They didn’t die because they were cooks! They died because they were on that train that tragic morning! Stop justifying your ambition with their deaths!"

Fred sighed heavily, rubbing his temples."My mum will want to know what you’re doing, to see if you’re qualified to marry me someday… I just don’t want you to stutter when that time comes."

Her voice broke."So I have to prove I’m worth marrying?"

"That’s not what I meant..."

She touched his cheek gently, eyes brimming with emotion.

"Those reasons are too small, Fred. I can do them all. I know you just want me to feel confident when I meet your parents."

He pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you, Martha."

Moments later, he started the engine, joy flickering in his eyes as Michael Smith’s ‘Heart of Worship’ filled the car.

They hummed softly along, their voices blending into the melody.

"Should we stop at Baker’s for your favorite pizza?" he asked with a grin.

She chuckled.

"Alright."

Fred was delighted to see her smile again.

He bought her pizza, beaming as she laughed while a few women nearby stole glances at his strikingly handsome face.

When they finally arrived at her house, silence settled again.

They sat for a moment in the car, eyes locked, love unspoken.

"Don’t forget the choir prayer meeting on WhatsApp tonight," she said, smiling as she stepped out.

She waved until his car disappeared from sight...her heart full, yet uncertain.

As Martha turned toward her house, she heard footsteps behind her.

A tall, male figure was walking slowly in her direction.

Her heart began to race.

The front yard was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the ground.

The man wore a hood, his face hidden.

Martha’s fingers trembled as she whispered a quiet prayer for her safety.

Just as he drew closer, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

“Martha!”

She turned sharply...relief flooding her chest.

It was Mrs. Whitmore, her elderly neighbor.

Martha exhaled, smiling wide.

“Hi, Mrs. Whitmore!” she said, rushing toward her.

Mrs. Whitmore’s face glowed with excitement.

“Our first son returned today, so we made soup for the neighborhood. Here, this is your share.”

She handed Martha a large bowl covered neatly with a napkin.

When Martha turned back toward her yard, the mysterious figure was gone.

A chill ran down her spine.

She whispered a thankful prayer to God and gently pulled Mrs. Whitmore into the house with her.

Inside, the warm light eased her nerves.

She offered to share the pizza Fred Thompson had bought for her earlier.

Though Mrs. Whitmore hesitated, she eventually agreed.

After enjoying the creamy chicken soup and pizza, Martha poured herself some juice and took a long gulp.

“I never imagined I’d eat chicken soup and pizza in one night,” she said with a laugh.

Mrs. Whitmore chuckled.

“Thank you for the pizza, dear. Though I’ll have to do some exercises tonight to burn these calories.”

Martha burst into laughter.

“For crying out loud, Mrs. Whitmore, you just turned sixty! Why do you still watch your weight like a teenage girl?”

They both laughed heartily.

“Because Max still calls me ‘Vanessa,’” Mrs. Whitmore said with a playful grin.“Every time he does, I feel young all over again.”

Martha laughed even harder.

Max was her husband, and he was just as charming as she was warm-hearted.

Then Mrs. Whitmore’s tone softened.

“That man earlier… was he a stalker?”

Martha froze, startled. She hadn’t realized Mrs. Whitmore had seen him.

“You saw him?”

Mrs. Whitmore nodded.

“Yes. I noticed him while bringing your food. That’s why I called you immediately. He’d been standing there for almost an hour before you arrived. Since you don’t know him, I’ll alert the police. They can keep watch around here until they catch him.”

Tears of gratitude filled Martha’s eyes.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Whitmore. I’m truly blessed to have a neighbor like you.”

Later, after walking her to the door, Martha felt a wave of relief as she prepared to shower.

By the time she stepped out, the WhatsApp choir prayer meeting had already begun.

As expected, Fred Thompson was absent...again.

He had been missing the meetings ever since his promotion to Regional Manager.

When the prayer session ended, her phone rang.

It was Fred.

She picked up immediately.

“Why didn’t you join the prayer meeting?” she asked gently.

“I was having an important discussion with my mother,” he replied.

“But you could’ve asked her to give you a few minutes to...”

“Oh, stop being so religious,” he interrupted.

“I missed one prayer meeting, not a lifetime of them.”

Martha sighed softly.

“Alright then, just… be good, okay?”

“Are you fine?” he asked.

She hesitated.

She wanted to tell him about the hooded stranger but stopped herself...she didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine. What did your mum cook?”

“Pepperoni and gizzard.”

“Mmm, yummy. Mrs. Whitmore brought chicken soup.”

“Whoa...that was nice of her.”

“It was.” She smiled faintly.

“Alright then. Let’s get some sleep so we can be up early for work.”

They said their goodnights, but as Martha lay in bed, her mind drifted back to the man in the hood...and the chilling thought that he might still be out there.

CHAPTER TWO

The morning was busy but orderly at CARTER Organization.

Workers moved with purpose between glass doors and polished floors.

CARTER’s Logo...bold silver letters...caught the light as staff streamed in.

Departments spread out across the building...Production, Sales, Logistics, HR, Marketing and the large open-plan Accounting Hall on the first floor where Martha worked.

Martha stepped out of Fred Thompson’s car and straightened her blouse.

Everyone nearby knew Fred was her boyfriend; he didn’t hide it, and she didn’t either.

At the gate they exchanged quick, professional nods with colleagues who were also flying in.

Fred gave her a small, supportive smile at her and headed up toward the executive floor.

He was in a hurry to join a boardroom meeting; Martha walked the short corridor to the Accounting Department.

The Accounting Hall was wide and bright, rows of desks and monitors arranged in neat blocks.

A low hum of calculators, keyboards and quiet conversation filled the air.

Several accountants were already at their stations, printing reports or checking spreadsheets.

A notice board near the entrance listed monthly targets, deadlines, and the day’s meeting schedule.

Martha moved through the hall with practiced ease, greeting a few coworkers.

“Morning, Nana,” she said, stopping by a cluster of desks.

“Morning, Martha,” Nana replied with a quick smile. Nana’s face was calm and efficient—always focused on the day’s tasks.

Lizzy, the team lead, sat at a desk near the center.

She acknowledged Martha with a measured nod that was polite but cool.

Her voice was professional, but the tone was sharp.

“Martha, I need the reconciliations for Warehouse Two before noon,” Lizzy said without looking up.

“On it,” Martha answered, handing over a printed summary.

Lizzy’s fingers skimmed the pages.

Her words were brief and businesslike; the edge in her manner barely registered for anyone else, but Martha felt it.

Across the hall, other accounting staff...clerks, analysts, and a couple of junior accountants were busy checking invoices, following up on receivables, and preparing payroll sheets.

The department felt well-staffed: several hands typing, people consulting ledger books, and a senior analyst fine-tuning a cash-flow forecast on a large monitor.

Near the entrance, Gabriella’s name flashed on a starred agenda item.

Gabriella, the department head, was not usually in the hall; she spent much of her time in executive meetings and strategic sessions with management.

Today, however, she was expected upstairs for a full briefing with the top executives.

Same meeting Fred had rushed to join upstairs.

She and Lizzy, her assistant shared a brief, professional exchange.

It was obviously an instruction she was giving to Lizzy to coordinate the team.

Gabriella’s smile was cool, efficient, and distant.

She left the department in the good hands of Elizabeth Rowland, popularly called Lizzy.

***

The glass doors of the top-floor boardroom slid open and Fred Thompson stepped inside.

The long oval table gleamed beneath soft recessed lights.

Around it sat the key heads of Carter Organization... men and women in crisp suits, their tablets and reports spread before them.

First son of the CEO of Carter organization, Ryan Benson looked up briefly, his usual smirk appearing. “You’re right on time, Thompson. We were about to begin.”

Fred smiled lightly. “Wouldn’t risk being on time for anything ”.

Jordan Benson, seated beside his elder brother, nodded without warmth. “Morning, Fred.”

Even if they didn't have the ability to show how much they hated Fred openly, it was obvious beneath their fake smiles.

They used to think Fred had the ability to snatch their father's organization because of his competence.

Fred returned the greeting, took his seat, and placed his folder neatly before him.

The large screen at the far end of the room blinked to life, revealing Williams Benson... the Chairman and General Manager of Carter organization connected via Zoom.

He was the father of the Benson brothers.

Ryan, Jordan and his mistress son, Dave.

His silver hair and calm, authoritative eyes commanded the room even from miles away.

“Good morning, everyone,” came his firm voice through the speakers. “Let’s get started. Ryan, you can chair the session.”

Ryan straightened slightly, glancing around the table. “Alright. Let’s begin with updates from each department. Gabriella, we’ll start with Accounting.”

Gabriella, dressed in a tailored navy suit, adjusted her glasses. Her voice was steady. “This week’s reports show stable cash flow across all regions. Store managers from the eastern and northern branches confirmed consistent payment cycles. However, we had a slight delay in reconciliation from two outlets... both in the southern region. It’s being corrected.”

Ryan nodded. “What caused the delay?”

“System upgrade interruptions,” Gabriella replied. “We’ve already coordinated with IT to prevent a recurrence.”

“Good,” Ryan said, scribbling something. “Anything else?”

She hesitated briefly. “We also finalized payroll adjustments for the new hires and updated the expense sheets for production. Everything aligns with the last audit.”

Dave Benson, seated further down, tapped his pen loudly on the table. “Wait...wait. Did you say delay? How many days’ delay?”

Gabriella turned slightly toward him. “Three days, Dave.”

He nodded, jotting something hurriedly. “Three days is not good. If three days turns into four, four becomes five, then…” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing in confusion before nodding again. “Yes, good. Just...just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”. He clumsily chewed his pen harder, hoping the ground could swallow him that moment.

The room went quiet for a moment.

Fred’s eyes softened slightly, then turned back to the papers before him.

Ryan quickly redirected. “What about Production, Patrick? How is it going so far?”

Patrick, a tall man with a calm tone, spoke next. “Production levels have increased by four percent this week, thanks to the new weaving machines. However, one of our suppliers delayed the silk shipment, which slowed down output for two days.”

Jordan leaned forward. “What are we doing about that supplier?”

Patrick replied, “We’ve already sent a notice. If it happens again, we’ll switch vendors. Fred suggested last month that we diversify suppliers; I think that’s proving to be wise advice.”

Fred simply nodded, his expression neutral.

Ryan’s jaw tightened briefly, then he turned. “Laura, Marketing.”

Laura, with her bright blazer and crisp notes, smiled. “Marketing reports a six percent rise in online engagement. Our ‘Luxury Threads for Every Season’ campaign performed well across all digital platforms. Store managers report that customer foot traffic increased by nine percent after the campaign launch.”

Dave suddenly interrupted, squinting. “Nine percent... is that good or bad?”

Laura blinked. “It’s an improvement, Dave.”

He nodded vaguely. “Good. I like improvement.”

The department heads exchanged quiet glances though they were used to Dave's meaningless observations but stayed composed.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Benjamin, Logistics.”

Benjamin, always precise, said, “Distribution efficiency remains steady. However, transportation costs have increased due to higher fuel prices. We’re revising route plans with our regional dispatch managers to balance expenses.”

Williams’ voice came from the screen. “Make sure the reports on that are shared with Accounting, Benjamin.”

“Yes, sir,” Benjamin replied.

Finally, Ryan turned to Evelyn. “Sales?”

Evelyn smiled confidently. “Sales are up seven percent overall. Store managers from all major regions sent in solid reports. We noticed particularly strong performance in the capital branch and western retail hubs. However, customer feedback suggests we should improve packaging quality for premium orders.”

Fred nodded thoughtfully. “That aligns with last quarter’s findings. I think we can integrate a packaging review without affecting production costs. Patrick, if your team can coordinate with Evelyn’s...”

Ryan interrupted, his tone light but sharp. “Let’s hold off on giving directives, Fred. We’ll review suggestions after the reports.”

Fred simply smiled, undisturbed. “Of course. Just a thought.”

Williams’ deep voice came again, calm but authoritative. “Let him continue, Ryan. I’d like to hear what he has in mind.”

Ryan froze briefly, then leaned back. “Go ahead.”

Fred turned a page in his folder. “It’s a small initiative. We could introduce regional quality audits every month instead of quarterly. Store managers can send concise updates through the digital dashboard. It’ll help identify issues like packaging before they affect sales volume. It’s low-cost but effective.”

Jordan exchanged a glance with Ryan. “That’s...uh...ambitious. Are we sure the store managers have the capacity for that kind of reporting?”

Fred replied evenly, “They already submit monthly inventory. It’s just an extra field in the existing form.”

Williams’ image shifted as he leaned closer to the screen. “That’s a sound idea, Fred. Implement it next month. Gabriella, ensure Accounting tracks any cost changes.”

“Yes, sir,” Gabriella said, her expression unreadable.

Ryan forced a smile. “Excellent point, Fred. Always the strategist.”

Fred’s lips curved faintly. “Teamwork keeps the numbers strong.”

Williams chuckled softly from the screen. “That’s the spirit I like to hear.”

There was a pause as everyone adjusted papers.

The quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the space.

Williams then spoke again, tone final. “Before we close, let’s review our next steps for market expansion. Fred, I’d like you to lead a cross-departmental assessment on new regional branches. Coordinate with Ryan and Jordan on that.”

Jordan’s smile was polite but stiff. “Of course, Father. Fred and I will handle it.”

Fred nodded calmly. “Happy to collaborate.”

Williams concluded, “Excellent. You’re all doing well. Let’s keep Carter Organization at the top of the industry.”

The screen blinked off.

For a brief moment, no one moved.

Then chairs scraped softly as everyone rose.

Papers shuffled, quiet murmurs filled the air.

Ryan clapped Fred lightly on the shoulder. “Nice ideas today. You always have one more trick up your sleeve, don’t you?”

Fred smiled faintly. “Just doing my job.”

As the team filed out, Gabriella glanced back once at Fred before following the others.

Fred stood by the window for a moment, watching the skyline...

***

Martha returned to her desk later in the morning with a stack of approved reconciliations and a calendar filled with deadlines.

Lizzy glanced up, expression unchanged.

“You handled Warehouse Two,” Lizzy said, dryly.

“Yes. I’ll send the updated ledger and follow up on the missing invoices,” Martha replied.

Nana offered a quick thumbs-up from her desk.

Other team members continued their work, focused and methodical.

The Accounting Hall hummed with activity...reporting, reconciling, and preparing data for the next management check-in.

Outside the department, the organization carried on: production scheduling, sales calls, and logistics planning.

Inside, the Accounting team kept the company’s financial engine running...precise, diligent, and essential.

Fred’s voice carried through a quick hallway greeting when he came down briefly to collect a document.

He remained professional, firm, and quietly respected...stealing glances at Martha to check if she was having a hard time.

CHAPTER THREE

The accounting department began to empty for the day.

Desktops clicked off one after another, chairs scraped back, and tired laughter echoed faintly across the wide, glass-walled hall.

It had been a long day...files, numbers, spreadsheets and everyone was ready to call it a night.

Nana stretched at her desk, gathering her files. “Finally done,” she sighed. “See you tomorrow, Martha.”

Martha smiled faintly. “Goodnight, Nana. Rest well.”

Lizzy passed by next, her bag slung neatly over her shoulder. “Lock up when

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Ruthie Alekseeva

26 Nov 2025

I am really enjoying your story. Thank you for it. :)

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