bChapter /bb116 /b

Elena’s POV:

“Elena, as I suspected,” Mr. Henderson’s voice echoed through my phone’s speaker, calm and professional, “Niki has chosen not to sign the proposed separation agreement. This officially means we are now in a contested divorce.”

I bit my lip, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach as listened to him continue. “His “no” isn’t a legal block to the divorce itself, Elena. He cannot ultimately stop you from obtaining a divorce if you wish to proceed. What he can do, however, it make the entire process significantly longer, considerably more expensive, and unfortunately, far more public“.

“How much more expensive?” I questioned, my voice barely above a whisper, the thought of escting legal fees sending a fresh wave of panic through me. Mr. Henderson sighed on the other end of the line, a sound that spoke volumes.

“The cost of this will unfortunately increase significantly, Elena. Contested divorces require far more legal hours for research, drafting and court appearances, as well as increased court filing fees, and potentially the cost of expert witnesses if Niki decides to challenge any specific aspects. We will need to revisit our current fee agreement to reflect theplexities of this new situation.”

Damn it all to hell. This was thest thing I needed. I didn’t have the time, the energy, or certainly the money to spend fighting Nikin a prolonged and public bdivorce /bbattle.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips, and I leaned against the granite countertop in Haruki’s spacious kitchen, the half prepared ingredients for the club sandwiches intended to make lying untouched before me.

Yesterday had been a relentless wave of nausea. This morning, determined to bstart /bmy first day of the intership on ba /bslightly more positive note, had decided to try and cook something simple but nourishing, not just for myself but as ba /bsmall gesture of goodwill towards Shinichiro, hoping to perhaps break the icy silence that had enveloped the condo since my arrival. The call from Mr. Henderson had effectively shattered that fragile hope, recing it with a renewed sense bof /bdread.

Think about it, Elena. There’s no immediate rush. Take your time to process this new development, and please call me back when you are avable to discuss the revised fee agreement and your preferred course of action.” Mr. Henderson’s voice, though still professional, bheld /bba /bnote of understanding managed a weak, “Thank you, Mr, Henderson,” before the call abruptly cut off, leaving me standing alone in the quiet kitchen.

g the warm mug of milk in my hands.

I finished making the sandwiches then leaned against the edge of the counter, cradling t

Just as I was about to take another sip, the door bto /bShinichiro’s room creaked open, the sound echoing in the stillness of the cando.

He walked out, his shoulders slightly bstumped/b, wearing the same pumpled school uniform he’d had on yesterday. His eyes didn’t meet mine as he shuffled towards the front door, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the hallway. He grabbed his backpackb, /bslung it over his shoulder with a sigh that sounded far too bheavy /bfor someone his age, and reached for the doorknob.

b“/bbGood /bmorning Shinichiro,” I said, trying to inject a cheerful tone into my bvoice/b. “I was just making some club sandwiches. There’s plenty if you’re hungry.”

“Not bhungry/bb,/bb” /bhe mumbled, his voice t, devoid of any emotion. The words, though not unkindb, /beffectively extinguished thest flicker of appetite i had managed to muster. My already nauseous stomach lurched in protest.

I heard the front door m shut with a decisive bbang/b, the sound echoing through the condo, and I wincedb, /bsetting my mug down on the counter with sigh

Why was absolutely everything going bso /bhorribly wrongb? /bbOne /bobstacle seemed to materialize the moment I cleared another, I sighed again and nude my way into my room to get changed for my bfirst /bbday /bat bLegacy/b.

After I bwas /bdone putting on a pair of grey ck and a navy blue zer, I tied my hair back into a neat, low bun, hoping to project an image of petence and bposure /bthat belied the pervous turmoil within.

Grabbing

g my handbag and the keys to the condo from the kitchen counter, I took onest deep breath and left, locking the door behind me.

The walk to bLegacy /bMutors really was only a ten–minute stroll, the impressive ss and steel building blooming /brger and more imposing with each step–d

took. My heart began to beat wildly against my ribs as I finally reached the entrance and stepped inside. I looked around with wide eyes, ba /bsense bof /bbave /bmixed with a healthy dose of intimidation washing over me.

The outside of the building had been undeniably beautiful. But the insided it was jow dieppingly gorgeous, a breathtaking fusion of art and cutting edi technology. The vast lobby felt more like the inside of a world-ss museum than an office building, with soaring rowings, polished marble floors that reflected the natural light streaming in through the enormous windows, and striking modern art instations strategically ced throughout the space.

Hooked around, pushing down the wave of self–consciousness that threatened to overwhelm me. I clutched my handbag tightly and made my way towards the reception desk where two impably dressed individuals, a man and a woman, were seated, their fingers flying across the keyboards of

theirputers

“How may I help you?” the woman said, her smile warm and professional as she looked up, her perfectly manicured finger adjusting her stylish ssesb. /b

introduced myself with a nervous smile, letting her know that I was Elena, the new intern

She nodded, her eyes scanning a lot on herputer screen. “Ah, yes, Ms. Elena Kovalyova. Wee to Legacy Motors Here is your new employes 10I badge” She reached under the counter and handed me a smallminated card with my photo and name printed on it. Just then, someone called bout /bfrom behind me, and I turned to find a bfriendly /blooking young man approaching with a wide smile.

He introduced himself as Ben, the other intern Mkai had mentioned during bour /bbrief conversation. After Ben was also given his ID badge, the receptionist made a quick phone call, and within moments, a woman who appeared to bbe /bin herte forties, arrived to great us. Clearly a senior employee.

She smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “So d to see this year’s interns are so bright and eager. Come, I’ll show you around and get you both settled in.” She gestured towards a set of elevators, and Ben and exchanged nces before following her

The time that followed was a whirlwind of introductions, building toun, and answering ba /bbarrage of questions. The Legacy Motors facility was even more impressive up cose, a sprawlingplex filled with state–of–the–art technology and beams of incredibly talented individuals working on different

projects. We were shown our assigned cubicles, small but well–equipped spaces in a bright, open–n area.

Later in the morning, after a series of introductory meetings, Mrs. Anderson, outlined our first assignment. b“/bEvery quarter, wepile aprehensivepetitive analysis report on emerging Al trends within the automotive space. I’d like you both to contribute to this effort by researching recent patent filings and relevant academic papers from our toppetitors–particrly focusing on novel approaches to Al–driven route optimization or predictive maintenance. You’ll then summarize your findings into a concise and well–structured report.”

She paused, looking at both Ben and me. “You’ll report directly to me for overall guidance and project oversight, but your day to day technical tasks will be assigned and reviewed by Dr. Petrova and Ms. Vance. Think of them as your immediate project leads for this assignment.”

Ben and I both nodded in agreement. The rest of the morning band /bearly afternoon were spent settling into our cubiclesb, /bsetting up our workstations, and exchanging more detailed introductions with the various team members we would be working alongside.

rom my personal life, my first day at Legacy seemed to be going smoothly. There were no unexpected mishaps

Fortunately, despite the lingering anxiety from i or awkward encounters.

That is, until I felt ba /bfamiliar wave of nausea churn bin /bmy stomach around four o’clock in the afternoon. The smell of themunal microwave reheating someone’s pungent lunch suddenly became unbearable. I pushed myself up from my chair, the sudden movement attracting a few curious bnces /bfrom my neighboring colleagues, but I didn’t have the time to worry about unnecessary attention. My only thought was reaching the nearest restroom 35 quickly bas /bpossible.

As soon as I reached the cool, tiled interior, I rushed into a vacant stall and began bretching/b, emptying out the meager contents of my lur heaving left me feeling weak and drained. I sighed, leaning against the cool porcin of the toilet bowl, a sense of weary resignation w really needed to see a doctor. This persistent nausea was bing increasingly difficult to manage.

Neviolent

With a feal, shuddering breath, I flushed the toilet and bpushed /bopen the door to the cubicle, feeling butterly /bexhausted and slightly defeated. I was already bracing myself for the curious stares of my colleagues when my eyesnded on ba /bwoman washing her hands at the sink, and I froze in my tracks.

“Ms. Seraphina?” I questioned, a surge of surprise coursing through me.The woman turned towards me, her brow arching slightly as she looked me up and down. “Elena?”

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