Shattered

Carter (e)

Carter
13.
For a moment, I just studied her. Every bone in my body was screaming for me to look away, but the way Hazel fidgeted nervously had me unable to take my eyes away. Whether it was because of me, or the phone call last night, I wasn't entirely sure.

It wasn't just Hazel's sleepy gaze, or the outfit she had on that was identical to yesterday's, that caught my attention, but her knees, which were bruised and scraped with dried blood. At the right angle, I noticed something glint in the light. Was that glass?

I replayed the exchange from last night, the gasp of surprise and fright at something Hazel must've seen, her hiss of pain and the sound of shattered glass. Someone had broken into her apartment.

Hazel's phone call was a welcoming distraction from the horror that had been dinner with my brother—who had been trying to call and text nonstop since the event took place. Now, it was the concern I couldn't shake away as I stared at Hazel across from me.

She tugged at her dress, trying to cover her knees, and when I glanced back toward her face, I could see the embarrassment written clear as day in her dark eyes.

I wanted to ask what happened, because I couldn't stop replaying her call, but I could only do what I knew best as an annoyed frown drew across my lips. Instead of asking if she was okay, I said,

"Don't you know how to change your clothes? I thought I asked you to look presentable?" Too easy.

My words couldn't have been furthest from the truth. Even though Hazel hadn't changed her outfit, she still looked good. Her long, wavy strands were swept neatly over her shoulder, her dress without a wrinkle in sight. Found my gaze lingering longer than it should have.

"They were—" Hazel began to say, but she stopped herself and shook her head. "Never mind. Can I—can I go back now?"

Clearly, I could see that something was bothering Hazel, and by her fidgety gaze, something stopped me from snapping.

Nodding my head silently, I watched Hazel slip back into her office.

Guilt filled my mind, and it only grew the longer I tried to ignore it. I didn't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to feel angry, like seeing Hazel the way she was, rubbed every nerve I felt, away.

My head spun, sure that I was just going crazy. I never felt anything for any of my assistants, my employees for that matter. I could blame the feeling on yet another sleepless night, the countless hours that I laid awake listening to my racing heart. I knew that I would always be able to count on that excuse.

Being tired wasn't an excuse with Hazel. There was something different about her that I just couldn't put a finger to, and made me feel things I had long since buried.

I stared at my computer screen, a frown tugging on my lips at the sight of the image before me. No matter how hard I tried, I would never get used to seeing my face on the internet. My angry, glaring face—the one the media always seemed to capture. If Hazel only knew. That article wasn't about her, but me—a recycled threat that did its purpose in steering people the opposite direction. If I could've taken down that article, there would be none at all.

Hazel Morgan, a former employee at 'The Daily Grind' Coffeehouse & Co. was caught in a whirlwind after spilling coffee all over the wretched Carter Wright—what a disaster! Catch a glimpse in the photo above: Morgan was delivering Wright's order, only to trip and spill the drink all over his suit. Everyone knows to steer clear of the infamous billionaire—did no one tell Morgan not to be so careless? It is no surprise now that she will now have to pay the consequences.
What's going to happen to Morgan now that she has fallen into his trap? Does she even know who she's dealing with? It is rumored that she has filled the role as Wright's assistant at 'Wright Manufacturing,' so it is only a matter of time before Morgan realizes the jeopardy she has put herself in. Read below to see what other people and former employees have to say:...