"Ms. Lily! You're late today," Maomao teases, setting down a bouquet she’s been arranging. "Did work keep you trapped again?"

  "You know how it is," I sigh, leaning against the counter. "Endless emails, last-minute meetings. I swear, corporate life is just a fancy way of saying 'slow torture.'"

  Xiabao chuckles as she snips the stems of some roses. "And yet, here you are, still dressed like a high-powered executive instead of a free-spirited flower fairy."

  I laugh. "Trust me, if I could trade in my office for this place, I would."

  "So do it!" Maomao grins, propping her hands on her hips.

  I raise an eyebrow. "A knack? You saw what happened last time I put a bouquet together according to the customer taste. The customer swore it was a farewell bouquet for their long-lost love."

  Xiabao bursts out laughing. "And then they came back the next day, asking for another! Like the flower and our client was missing you already! Who knew grief bouquets could be a trend?"

  I shake my head. "You two always know how to cheer me up."

  "That’s what we're here for," Maomao says, nudging me playfully. "Now tell us—any office gossip? Any mysterious admirers?"

  I roll my eyes. "You wish. If anything, my biggest admirer right now is the printer & coffee machine."

  Xiabao pretends to sigh dramatically. "What a waste. You, my dear, deserve romance, intrigue, and a little bit of danger."

  "I'll pass on the danger, thanks." I smirk. "I'm perfectly happy with peace and quiet."

  Then, my phone rings.

  An unknown number.

  I frown, my fingers hovering over the screen. A part of me considers ignoring it, but curiosity wins.

  "Ooooh, could it be a secret admirer after all?" Maomao teases.

  "If it is, they’re about to be very disappointed," I mutter as I swipe to answer. "Who's this?"

  A brief silence. Then a familiar voice.

  "Liljie... it's me."

  My breath catches.

  "Ivy?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended.

  Ivy—the person who had dragged me back into the corporate world. The reason I had to give up the life I wanted.

  A thousand questions run through my mind, but a familiar ache settles in my chest. I take a deep breath, gripping my phone tighter. "Ivy, you know I left that world behind. Why are you dragging me back into it?" Even after helping her before, why was she pulling me back into this? She knew what had happened. She knew why I left. And yet, here we were again.

  "Liljie, I’m sorry… please—" her voice is apologetic, but I’m not in the mood for excuses.

  "Why me?" I ask, my grip tightening around the phone.

  "I know you don’t want this, but I need your help. And that man… his the only one who I can run to ask help in my current situation. He—oh my god… they found me!" Ivy’s voice breaks, her panic crackling through the speaker.

  A loud rustling. Something falls. A muffled sound, a sharp intake of breath.

  Then a voice—low, menacing, just barely audible.

  "Liljie, I don’t have time to explain, but I'll contact you again—"

  The call cuts off.

  A chill runs down my spine. The air in the shop suddenly feels heavier.

  Maomao and Xiabao are still laughing about something, unaware that my world just tilted on its axis.

  I stare at my phone, heart pounding.

  Who was tracking her?

  And what had Ivy gotten herself into this time?

  I swallow hard, my thoughts spinning. But something else nags at me—a feeling I can't shake. Why did she sound so panicked? Ivy wasn’t one to lose her composure. I’d seen her handle crises that would make anyone else break down. Yet, tonight, she was terrified.

  What is she hiding from me?

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  And why do I feel like I’m about to find out the hard way?

  Ahh… how did I end up meeting Ivy again?

  The first time I met Ivy, I was knee-deep in a floral disaster.

  It was my first week at the flower shop. I had convinced myself that arranging flowers would be a peaceful, stress-free job. How hard could it be? You just stick them in a vase, right?

  Wrong.

  "Excuse me," a voice said behind me. "Are you... murdering that bouquet?"

  I spun around, nearly knocking over a bucket of sunflowers. Standing there was a woman in sharp corporate attire, holding a cup of coffee like it was her lifeline. Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

  "I'm not murdering it!" I protested, though the sad-looking arrangement in front of me said otherwise.

  She raised an eyebrow. "That rose looks like it’s questioning its existence."

  I groaned. "Okay, fine. I may have slightly overestimated my skills."

  She grinned and rolled up her sleeves. "Move over. Let me show you how it’s done."

  I hesitated. "You know how to arrange flowers?"

  "Let’s just say I have my ways," she replied mysteriously.

  Within minutes, she had transformed my sad, lopsided bouquet into a stunning masterpiece. I watched, completely mesmerized, as her fingers worked with precision, adjusting each stem like she’d done this a thousand times before. Her movements were confident, effortless, like she belonged in a place like this rather than in some high-powered corporate office.

  "There," she said, stepping back. "A proper bouquet."

  I stared at it in awe. "You're good at this. What, did you take secret flower-arranging classes in between corporate takeovers?"

  She laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Something like that. I like flowers. They don’t yell at you over missed deadlines."

  Her words made me pause. I recognized something in her tone—a quiet exhaustion, an underlying weariness that mirrored my own. Had she, too, run from something? Had she also sought refuge in something simpler, something softer?

  Ivy must have noticed my curiosity because she quickly took a sip of her coffee, as if to wash away whatever emotion had slipped through.

  "So, you’re new here?" she asked, changing the subject.

  I nodded. "Yeah. First week. Still trying to figure out how not to assault innocent flowers."

  She smirked. "You’ll get there. It’s all about balance. Flowers need a gentle touch, but a firm hand. Kind of like handling people."

  I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds suspiciously like corporate wisdom disguised as flower shop advice."

  "Maybe," she said with a wink. "Old habits die hard."

  Ivy’s presence was oddly comforting. She had this way of making herself at home wherever she went, even in a flower shop where she technically didn’t belong. And, strangely, I didn’t mind. There was something about her—something familiar, even though we’d just met.

  I didn’t want to think too deeply about why I found that reassuring. But as I watched her effortlessly adjust another bouquet, something settled in me. Maybe this place wouldn’t be as lonely as I thought. Maybe, in between the petals and the quiet hum of this new life, I was finding something I hadn’t realized I needed.

  As time went on, Ivy and I kept talking, meeting regularly at the flower shop. What started as casual conversations turned into deeper discussions. She taught me about flower arrangement, the meaning behind each bloom, and how the right placement could bring harmony to a bouquet. In return, I helped her with the business side of things—not by taking control, but by guiding her to see the bigger picture. She often teased me about knocking on the corporate world’s door, but I would always laugh and say, "Nah, I'm happy just being here."

  One day, as we sat among the fragrant flowers, her usual composure cracked. She let out a long sigh, her fingers idly tracing the edge of a petal before her shoulders sagged under an unseen weight.

  "I built this company with my friends. My ideas, my hard work… but now, everything’s slipping away," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I trusted them. I gave them everything—my ideas, my trusted staff, the very foundation of what I built. And somehow, they’re making decisions behind my back, stripping away everything piece by piece. The company is barely holding on, and I don’t know what to do anymore. Every time I try to grasp control, it slips through my fingers like sand. The people I once called allies have turned into competitors, taking all that I created and leaving me with nothing but the weight of betrayal."

  I studied her, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes. The Ivy I knew was always composed, always in control. But now, she was unraveling, her strength stretched thin by the weight of deception.

  I leaned forward, my voice steady. "Review the process, the documents, the finances, and the people involved. Audit everything. You don’t have to decide everything at once—just take it one piece at a time. When you're ready, show what you can do, what you're capable of. Ideas can be stolen, but the effort and passion to maintain them cannot."

  She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Fight for it? Against them? They know every loophole. If I make a wrong move, I lose everything. Maybe it's not even worth it. Maybe I should just walk away. But if I do... then what? Do I let them win? Do I let everything I've built slip away? I don’t know where to start. I don’t even know if I have the strength. But... maybe, just maybe, I can try one more time."

  I gave her a small smile. "I know you can do it, like how you organize these flowers in their right positions," I said, chuckling at the thought of the lessons I had received from her on flower arrangement.

  She looked at me for a long moment before a flicker of determination replaced the doubt in her eyes. "You’re right. I don’t have to decide everything now. I just need to take the first step."

  She straightened her posture, as if the weight on her shoulders had lessened, even if just a little. The fight wasn’t over, but at least now, she was ready to face it—not because I told her to, but because she had chosen to. I only supported her by asking the right questions, guiding her toward the realization of what she was lacking. Sometimes, I even used techniques from flower arrangement—the very lessons she had taught me—to help her see things from a different perspective, applying them to what she had been working on.

  And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start again.

  Back to reality, I realized that this was how we had become companions. She helped me, and I guided her. I never dictated her choices; I only provided insights, nudging her toward realizations she needed to reach on her own. But one thing still lingered in my mind—why did she trust me so much, especially when it came to working with that man?

  Damien Reid.

  There was something about him that unsettled me. I could sense that he was dangerous, a man whose presence felt too familiar, yet vastly different from mine. His way of doing things… it wasn’t like mine at all.

  I had to recalculate and rethink my actions. My previous choices seemed reckless. I should recheck and calculate my steps as if I were in that company, carefully deciding what needed to be done.

  And somehow, pretending didn’t seem like a good thing. I just hoped I wasn’t forgetting something.

  — END CHAPTER 4.1—

  Author’s Note:

  two chapters today! ??

  Belle Ame Fleur ??