No one, for now

The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Isabel’s knees nearly buckled with relief. The compartment was empty.

She slipped inside quickly, pressing her back against the cool metal wall. For the first time since leaving the bathroom, she allowed herself to exhale. The relative privacy of the elevator wrapped around her like a fragile bubble. She jabbed the button for the third floor and watched the doors inch closed.

Then a voice rang out from the hallway.

“Hey, hold the door!”

Isabel’s stomach plummeted. She lunged forward, hammering the close door button with her finger. “No, no, no,” she whispered under her breath, heart pounding. The gap between the doors narrowed, her escape so close she could taste it.

But just before they sealed, a slim hand with perfectly manicured nails slipped through the crack. The safety mechanism reversed with a chime, and the doors peeled back.

Victoria Kingsley stepped gracefully into the elevator, her designer heels clicking against the floor. At twenty, she stood an inch taller than Isabel naturally, and with the added height of her stilettos, Isabel felt downright small next to her. Her platinum blonde hair shone under the fluorescent lights, makeup flawlessly in place as though she were stepping onto a set rather than into an office building.

And her outfit — polished, striking, expensive — only made the difference sharper. Victoria wore flowy, wide-legged black pants that swept elegantly with each step. A crisp white blouse with fringe along the sleeves caught the light as she moved, tucked neatly beneath a black leather belt with a designer logo gleaming at the buckle. Gold earrings framed her face, her nails glossy and immaculately done. Every detail, from her accessories to her posture, declared her privilege and control.

Isabel’s face burned. Barefoot, stripped to nothing but her thin white cotton underwear and bra, she felt utterly defenseless beside the polished intern. Her underwear was plain, older, and from certain angles nearly transparent under the bright fluorescent lights. Next to Victoria’s pristine ensemble, Isabel felt as though she had been stripped not only of clothes, but of dignity.

Victoria blinked once, then her glossy lips curved into an amused smile. “Um… why are you in your underwear?”

Isabel hugged her arms across her chest, her voice low. “It’s… complicated. My jumpsuit got ruined. I’m just trying to get to the lost and found before anyone else sees me.”

Victoria tilted her head, studying her with the same curious amusement she always had. To anyone else, Victoria was the enviable golden girl — but Isabel knew the truth. Victoria’s internship wasn’t earned; it had been gifted. Her father sat on the company’s board and would be on the Zoom call with executives later that day, a call Isabel couldn’t afford to miss. That connection made Victoria untouchable.

And yet, despite everything, Isabel had always felt slightly higher in the pecking order. She had earned her place here. She was respected, considered for management, even if Victoria was technically above her by bloodline.

Now, standing in the elevator in nothing but worn cotton underwear while Victoria’s polished perfection towered over her, that confidence crumbled.

Victoria’s smirk deepened. “You know, this is kind of iconic. I should totally take a selfie with you like this.”

Isabel’s breath caught. “What?”

“Come on, it would be hilarious. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t post it anywhere.” Victoria slipped her phone out of her bag, holding it loosely at her side, her tone light but expectant. “Just a little souvenir. Between friends.”

The words stung. They were friends, yes, but the power imbalance now felt immense. Isabel imagined that photo sitting on Victoria’s phone, ready to be shown, ready to be used. The thought of Victoria having that image — while her father sat in the meeting later today — made her chest tighten.

The elevator hummed, sealing the doors and trapping the two women together. Victoria angled her phone ever so slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Isabel’s pulse hammered in her ears. Agreeing could win her a powerful ally, someone whose support could smooth her path to promotion. Refusing might create tension with the daughter of a board member.

She hovered, torn between humiliation and strategy, her decision hanging unspoken as the elevator carried them upward.