She gets an E-mail from her Brother

The rhythmic tapping of keys filled the air, a sterile symphony of productivity. Nicole stared at her monitor, the harsh white light reflecting in her eyes. A notification chimed, slicing through the monotony.

She clicked the email. The subject line read: *Help*.

"Please tell me this isn't another loan request," she whispered.

The text was brief: *Nic, I’ve messed up again. Lost my apartment. I have nowhere to go. Can I stay with you and John for a few weeks?*

A knot tightened in her stomach. The memory of that drunken night five years ago flashed through her mind—the heat, the blur of alcohol, and the mistake that now served as Mr. Jefferson's leash. She glanced toward the executive office. Jefferson stood by the glass wall, his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lights. He didn't move, but his gaze locked onto her, a knowing, predatory smirk curling his lips.

Nicole stood abruptly, clutching her phone, and retreated into the narrow silence of the breakroom. She dialed Daniel's number.

"Hello?" Daniel’s voice sounded ragged, stripped of its usual confidence.

"Daniel? Why are you emailing me now? You can't just drop this on me without a phone call."

"I know, Nic. I know. I'm sorry. I just... I have nowhere else to go. I'm desperate."

"John is there, Daniel. We barely have room as it is. How am I supposed to tell him?"

"I'll stay on the couch. I'll clean, I'll pay my way. Please. I can't be on the street."

Nicole leaned her forehead against the cold metal of the vending machine, closing her eyes.

"Fine. But just for a short while. Don't make me regret this."

"Thank you. I love you, sis."

"I love you too. Just... get here safely."