Chapter 7: Days That Tested His Will
806 Words
Mason quickly learned that surviving his first day at the newspaper company had been the easy part.
The real test began afterward.
Each morning, he arrived earlier than everyone else, dressed neatly, shoulders squared, reminding himself why he was there. This was not just a job—it was his escape, his rebirth. Yet the moment Evelyn stepped into the office, the air shifted. Conversations died down. Smiles vanished. Even the walls seemed to stiffen under her presence.
“Mason.”
Her voice alone made his spine straighten.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied immediately, standing from his seat.
She dropped a thick stack of files on his desk without warning. “These need to be sorted, labeled, and delivered to three departments before noon. If there’s a single mistake, start over.”
He glanced at the pile. It was work meant for at least two people.
“Yes, ma’am.”
By midday, his fingers ached, his head throbbed, and sweat clung to his back beneath his shirt. When he finally delivered the files, Evelyn barely looked at them.
“You’re late.”
“I—” He checked the clock. “It’s eleven fifty-eight.”
Her eyes lifted slowly, cold and sharp. “Did I say noon, or did I say before noon?”
He swallowed. “Before noon.”
“Then don’t argue. Go make copies of yesterday’s reports. All of them.”
He nodded and turned away.
From the corners of the office, staff watched in silence. Some pitied him. Others shook their heads, already convinced he wouldn’t last. Evelyn had broken stronger people than him.
By the end of the week, it became obvious—this wasn’t strict management. It was deliberate.
She sent him on pointless errands, corrected him harshly in front of others, and assigned him tasks that bordered on impossible. If he did something well, she found something wrong. If he made a mistake, she magnified it until it felt unforgivable.
“Do you lack basic understanding?” she snapped one afternoon when he accidentally mixed two files.
“I’m sorry,” he said calmly, though his chest burned. “It won’t happen again.”
She leaned back in her chair, studying him as though he were a puzzle she couldn’t solve. “People who make mistakes don’t belong here. Maybe this job is too much for you.”
The words were sharp, meant to wound, meant to chase him away.
He lowered his head. “If you say so.”
But he didn’t leave.
At night, alone in his small apartment, the mask slipped. He would sit on the edge of his bed, hands clenched, memories flooding back—the life he once lived, the ease, the respect, the love he lost. Sometimes he wondered if this punishment was deserved, if pain had simply followed him across borders.
But every morning, he returned.
Evelyn noticed.
It irritated her more than she expected.
She had hired him on a whim, barely remembering why. Something about his quiet persistence had unsettled her. Now, watching him endure her cruelty without complaint only fueled her anger. Why wouldn’t he fight back? Why wouldn’t he quit?
Didn’t he feel pain?
One afternoon, she called him into her office.
“Sit.”
He did.
“You’ve been making too many errors,” she said coldly. “I don’t tolerate incompetence.”
“I understand,” he replied.
She narrowed her eyes. “Most people would have resigned by now.”
“I’m not most people.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
The room went still.
Her gaze hardened. “Then prove it. Stay late tonight. Rewrite tomorrow’s headlines. All of them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When he left her office, whispers followed him.
“Is she trying to kill him?”
“He won’t survive another week.”
But Mason stayed late. Long after the office lights dimmed, long after the cleaners left, he worked. His eyes blurred, his fingers cramped, but he finished the task.
When Evelyn found the rewritten headlines the next morning, she paused.
They were… good.
Too good.
She closed the file sharply, irritation blooming in her chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to break. To fail. To leave.
Instead, he endured.
And for the first time in years, something unfamiliar stirred inside her—not softness, not kindness, but confusion.
Why did his pain feel so familiar?
Mason, meanwhile, walked back to his desk, unaware of the crack he had created in her armor. All he knew was that every harsh word, every impossible task, was another reminder of why he had run from his past.
If he could survive Evelyn, he could survive anything.
And he would.
No matter how hard she tried to push him away.
- Writer
