Chapter 3

1.7K 120 125
                                    

As Owen convened with the rest of the team in a separate room, a sense of tension lingered in the air, palpable and thick

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

As Owen convened with the rest of the team in a separate room, a sense of tension lingered in the air, palpable and thick. Positioned around the table were the seven other members of the team, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Now, gentlemen," Owen began, his voice measured and authoritative, "after a discussion with Amelié, she's expressed a desire for me to address any concerns you may have. I want to understand what actions of hers have led to any offense or discomfort on your part." Adjusting his cufflinks with a precise motion, he twirled his pen between his fingers, his gaze shifting from one teammate to another.

North was the first to speak up, his voice tinged with frustration. "She's just too overbearing, always fussing over me. I don't need her fixing my hair or wiping non-existent dirt off my face all the damn time," he grumbled, running his hands through his dark locks in apparent annoyance.

Owen nodded, his pen gliding across the page in precise strokes to capture North's complaint.

Next was Luke, his tone more resigned than aggrieved. "It's not exactly upsetting, but she tends to not let us do anything. Like holding open doors out of courtesy. It's a small thing, but it's hard to show appreciation when she won't allow it," he explained, his words carrying a sense of mild exasperation.

Owen's brow furrowed slightly at the seemingly trivial grievance, but he dutifully transcribed Luke's sentiments onto the page.

"Making Sang uncomfortable," Kota stated, prompting nods of agreement from the others.

Owen's brow furrowed as he listened, his fingers twirling the pen in a restless motion while he loosened his tie with his other hand.

"Amelié anticipated this," Owen interjected, his voice firm. "She made it clear to me that as soon as she realized Sang was uncomfortable, she promptly disengaged. So, let's try again."

Gabriel's complaint followed, his frustration evident as he lounged back on the sofa. "When she speaks in a language we can't understand and laughs at us. Who knows what she's saying."

Owen's expression betrayed a mix of incredulity and exasperation as he unbuttoned his top button, jotting down Gabriel's words with a sigh of resignation. He knew Amelié wouldn't take it well.

Nathan shifted uncomfortably, his expression betraying a mix of frustration and apprehension. "It's just... the favoritism, you know? Between her and Silas. They're always inseparable. Always sharing secrets, always wrapped up in each other. I'm not saying I'm envious," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But it feels unjust that they're always so close."

As Owen meticulously transcribed Nathan's concerns, he couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise at the depth of animosity his team harbored towards Amelié. Each reason offered shed new light on the complexities of their dynamic, revealing a tangled web of grievances and resentments.

CaptivateWhere stories live. Discover now