Chapter 2: First Day. First War.
792 Words
Lara Valdez arrived at Nexus Prime at 7:57 a.m. sharp.
She hated herself a little for that.
She stood across the street from the glass tower, coffee in hand, staring up at the building like it had personally insulted her ancestors. This was not how her life was supposed to go. She was not supposed to be here—working for the man who stole her idea and smiled while doing it.
But rent existed. Bills existed. And Kyle Thorne paid obscenely well.
So here she was.
She crossed the street, swiped in at security, and followed the signs to the executive floor. Everything about the place screamed money—polished floors, silent elevators, employees who looked like they hadn’t known peace since grad school.
A woman at reception smiled too brightly. “Miss Valdez? You’re early.”
Lara resisted the urge to say It’s called anxiety. “Barely.”
She was shown to her desk just outside Kyle Thorne’s office. Not inside. Outside. Glass wall, clear view of the enemy at all times.
Perfect.
Kyle stood inside his office, already working, sleeves rolled up, posture straight, expression unreadable. He didn’t look up when she sat down.
Good. She didn’t want to look at him either.
A few seconds later, his voice came through the intercom.
“Miss Valdez.”
She pressed the button. “Yes?”
“You’re three minutes early.”
Her jaw tightened. “I believe I’m on time.”
“On time is eight,” he replied calmly. “Early is prepared.”
She smiled sweetly at the desk phone. “I’ll work on fixing my punctuality.”
A pause.
Then, “You’ll find a financial performance report in your inbox. I need a summarized analysis before close of business.”
Her fingers froze above the keyboard.
Day one. First task. No warm-up.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Yes,” he added. “Accuracy matters more than speed. But I expect both.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Of course you do.”
The line went dead.
Lara stared at the screen for a moment, then cracked her knuckles. Fine. If he wanted a war, she’d give him one—with charts.
---
She didn’t leave that desk for hours.
The report was dense, unforgiving, and clearly designed to break weaker souls. Lara tore through it anyway, fueled by spite and caffeine. She cross-checked figures, flagged inconsistencies, rewrote summaries.
By the time the sun dipped low against the glass walls, her head hurt and her eyes burned—but the report was flawless.
She stood, grabbed her tablet, and walked into Kyle Thorne’s office for the first time that day.
He was seated at his desk, reviewing something on one of his screens. His pen rested near his right hand—sleek, black, unremarkable.
She placed the tablet on his desk. “Completed.”
He finally looked up.
Their eyes met, and something sharp passed between them. Recognition. Annoyance. Interest. Hard to tell.
He picked up the tablet, skimming quickly.
Lara waited.
That was when she noticed the pen on his desk.
For a split second—just a blink—it didn’t look like a pen anymore.
It shimmered.
Not glowing. Not bright. Just… wrong. Like it didn’t belong in the room. Like it was older than the building, heavier than it should be.
Her breath caught.
She blinked.
It was just a pen.
Kyle’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You flagged an error in the third-quarter projections.”
“Yes,” she said automatically. “The margin didn’t account for—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “No one else noticed.”
That annoyed her more than praise should.
He set the tablet down slowly. “Your work is efficient.”
“Thank you,” she replied flatly.
“You don’t like compliments.”
“I don’t like you.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “Noted.”
He reached for the pen again, and Lara forced herself not to stare.
“Tomorrow,” he said, signing off on the report, “we’ll discuss workflow expectations.”
“Thrilling,” she muttered.
He looked at her then—really looked—and for a brief, unsettling moment, it felt like he saw too much.
“Welcome to Nexus Prime, Miss Valdez,” he said.
She turned and walked out before she could say something she’d regret.
Back at her desk, Lara exhaled slowly, heart still racing.
She glanced once more at the glass wall, at Kyle Thorne standing alone in his office, perfectly composed.
“You’re tired,” she whispered to herself. “That’s all.”
Because pens didn’t shimmer.
And she definitely wasn’t losing her mind.
…Right?
- Writer
