The office was buzzing with artists and editors hunched over screens, sketching panels and adjusting dialogue bubbles. The soft scratching of styluses on tablets mixed with the quiet clicking of keyboards and the occasional discussion about story pacing or character expressions. Deadlines ruled the room, and everyone moved with quiet urgency.
Malissa sat at her desk, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She had barely slept the night before. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alexander sitting behind his desk, calm and merciless, sliding the contract toward her as if he were offering her a business opportunity instead of control over her life.
She shook her head slightly and forced herself to focus on the screen in front of her. A webtoon episode layout filled the monitor, speech bubbles floating over characters frozen in dramatic poses. She adjusted the position of a dialogue bubble, resized a panel, and corrected a line of dialogue, but her mind kept drifting.
Mrs Grant appeared beside her desk, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. Without greeting her, she dropped a stack of storyboards onto Malissa's desk.
"These need to be cleaned up and formatted by tonight," Mrs Grant said. "And do not forget the weekly upload schedule. Management wants it polished and sent before morning."
Malissa looked at the pile of work and felt her stomach sink. She was already drowning in deadlines, but Mrs Grant never cared about how much work she had. She only cared that everything was done on time so she could present it as her team's achievement.
"Yes, ma'am," Malissa said quietly.
Hours passed in a blur. Malissa adjusted panel layouts, corrected dialogue timing, and formatted episode files for upload. Her eyes burned from staring at the screen for too long, and her shoulders ached from sitting in the same position for hours. Around mid afternoon, she made a small mistake. She placed a speech bubble too low, covering part of a character's face.
Mrs Grant noticed immediately.
"Do you want us to lose readers because of sloppy work?" she snapped loudly in front of everyone. "Pay attention, Malissa. If you can't handle basic corrections, maybe you shouldn't be here"
Malissa's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as a few coworkers glanced in her direction.
She lowered her head and fixed the mistake quietly without arguing.
She needed this job. No matter how unfair things were, she had to endure.
Later in the evening, as she walked past the meeting room, she overheard Mrs Grant speaking to management.
"Yes, I stayed late to finish the upload schedule and corrected the panel layouts myself," Mrs Grant was saying confidently. "The team relies on me to keep everything organized."
Malissa stopped walking for a moment, her breath caught. That was her work. She had done all of it. But she knew better than to confront Mrs Grant. It would only make things worse.
She returned to her desk silently and continued working.
Her phone buzzed softly on the desk. She picked it up and saw a hospital reminder notification. Bills overdue.
Her stomach dropped as she opened her banking app under the desk. The number on the screen made her stomach drop.
Balance.
Almost nothing.
Rent due in a few days. Hospital deposit unpaid. Medicine costs pending.
She stared at the screen for a long time before slowly locking the phone and placing it face down on the desk.
Her gaze drifted to her bag, where Alexander's business card was tucked inside. She could almost feel its presence, like it was burning through the fabric.
She clenched her jaw.
"Never," she whispered.
But even she didn't believe it.
After work, she went straight to the hospital.
The doctor met her in the hallway outside her mother's ward. His expression was serious, and Malissa's heart began to beat faster even before he spoke.
"Miss Fisher," he said, "your mother's condition is worsening. The treatment cannot continue much longer without payment. We have already delayed the medicine once. We cannot delay again."
Malissa felt the pressure build inside her. "Please," she said quietly. "Just a little more time. I will find the money."
The doctor sighed softly. "I understand your situation, but we cannot continue treatment indefinitely without payment. Please try to settle the bill as soon as possible."
Malissa nodded slowly, even though she had no idea where the money would come from.
She entered the ward and walked to her mother's bedside. Her mother looked weaker than before, her skin pale, her movements slow.
"Malissa," her mother said softly when she saw her. "You look tired."
Malissa forced a smile and sat beside her. "Work is just busy," she said.
Her mother reached for her hand weakly. "Do not push yourself too hard. If it is too much, let it go."
Malissa shook her head immediately.
"Everything is fine, Mom. I will fix everything. You just need to rest."
Her mother looked at her for a long moment, as if she knew she was lying but did not want to say anything.
"I am sorry for being a burden," her mother whispered.
Malissa's eyes filled with tears instantly. She squeezed her mother's hand gently. "Do not say that. You are my mother. I will do anything for you."
But inside, panic was growing. She was running out of time.
That night, Malissa sat at her small kitchen table, bills scattered across the surface like broken pieces of her life. She opened her banking app again even though she already knew what it would show.
Almost nothing left.
She had already sold her tablet, her jewelry, her idol merchandise, and most of her valuable belongings. The apartment looked emptier now, like someone had slowly erased pieces of her life one by one.
There was nothing left to sell.
She skipped dinner because she did not want to spend money on food. Her stomach ached, but she ignored it and drank water instead. She curled up on the couch, pulling a thin blanket around herself.
Her eyes fell on Alexander's business card lying on the table.
She stared at it for a long time before picking it up slowly. She traced the letters of his name with her finger, her chest tight with anger and frustration.
She slammed the card back onto the table.
"No," she whispered. But the word didn't feel as strong as it should have.
But the thought would not leave her mind.
The next day, she visited another lawyer's office. She clutched her father's case files tightly, hope flickering weakly in her chest.
"Please," she said, placing the documents on the desk. "Review his case. He was framed. I just need someone to help."
The lawyer looked through the documents briefly before closing the file and sliding it back toward her.
"I am sorry, Miss Fisher," he said. "We can't take this case."
A pause.
"It's not advisable."
Her heart sank immediately. "why… why not?"
The lawyer avoided her gaze. "I can't say. But I can't take your case."
Malissa nodded slowly, even though her chest felt like it was collapsing. She gathered the files and left the office quietly.
Outside, she stood on the sidewalk for a long time, staring at the traffic moving past her. It hadn't stopped.
Even after she refused his offer, he had not stopped.
That night, she sat alone in her apartment. The room felt emptier than ever, stripped of the things she had sold. The silence felt heavy.
She picked up a family photo from the table. Her father was smiling in the picture, her mother looked healthy and happy, and she looked carefree and young. It felt like a different life.
Tears blurred her vision.
She opened her father's case file and flipped through the pages slowly. She had read these documents so many times that she almost knew them by heart. She traced the lines with trembling fingers.
"I will clear your name," she whispered quietly.
Her gaze shifted to her mother's hospital bracelet lying on the table. She picked it up and held it tightly, pressing it against her chest as tears fell silently down her face.
She was exhausted. Emotionally, physically, financially exhausted. But she kept moving, kept working, kept trying, because she did not know what else to do.
Late that night, her phone rang.
The hospital. Her breath stilled.
For a moment, she didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't think.
Then,
she answered.
"Miss Fisher," the voice said.
Urgent.
Lower than before.
"We need you to come in immediately."
Her heart dropped.
"Is it my mother?"
A pause. Too long.
"Please come now."
The line went dead. Malissa stood frozen.
The silence in the room felt louder than anything she had heard all day.
Her fingers trembled slightly around the phone.
she didn't think about pride.
Or anger. Or fighting. Not anymore.
Her mind went somewhere else.
Somewhere she had been trying to avoid.
Alexander Marquez.
Her grip tightened.
This time, she didn't say no.