The CEO Who Knew My Panic Attacks

"Shaw! Copy this quarterly report twenty times and bring it to the top-floor conference room immediately!" Bob’s booming voice cut through the cubicles, accompanied by the heavy thud of documents being slammed onto her desk. "Coming!" Shaw snapped out of her daze. She didn't even have time to save the spreadsheet she was halfway through. Grabbing the thick stack of papers, she ran toward the printing room like a startled rabbit. Shaw, a stellar graduate from a prestigious university. After surviving six grueling rounds of interviews that felt like stripping off a layer of skin, she had finally squeezed into an internship at this world-renowned, top-500 conglomerate. To her, this towering skyscraper was her ticket to the future. So, even if her daily work consisted of nothing but pouring tea, running errands, and photocopying for senior staff—learning absolutely nothing core to the business—she had no complaints. To stay, she was willing to swallow all her grievances and endure. But the price of her dream was heavy. Countless sleepless nights spent staring blankly at the ceiling until dawn, and her fingers trembling uncontrollably during meetings, were silent warnings: her body was already standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff. Today seemed to be just another high-pressure day, no different from the rest. Inside the dim, high-end boardroom, the air was as cold as ice. The marketing director was on stage, spitting words left and right as he presented his PowerPoint, doing everything he could to exaggerate the next quarter's KPIs and market channels. Every piece of his passionate rhetoric was, in reality, just begging for approval from the person sitting at the very head of the long table. The woman sitting in the shadows was the helmsman of this massive empire, the CEO—Grace. She leaned back against her leather chair, her stunning, aristocratic face completely expressionless. Her deep, dark eyes were like a fathomless abyss, radiating an absolute authority that made people tremble. And Shaw was merely sitting in the darkest corner, her hands mechanically tapping out the meeting minutes. Occasionally, she had to hunch her shoulders and move like a ghost, gently refilling a cup of coffee for some executive before it went completely empty. Just as she was about to stand up for the third time to pour water, something went wrong. The surrounding sounds suddenly seemed to be muted. The director’s lips were still moving rapidly on stage, but Shaw couldn't hear a thing. Her spirit seemed to detach from her body in an instant, floating in midair, coldly watching herself. Right after, her heart began to hammer against her chest like a runaway drum. Her blood ran cold, and the tips of her fingers turned numb and icy within a single second. A massive, unprovoked wave of near-death panic submerged her entirely. Shaw’s body shuddered violently. She was all too familiar with this feeling—the panic attack that had choked her to death in countless dark nights had somehow chosen to visit her again, right here in front of everyone in the boardroom. No... absolutely not here! Shaw bit her lower lip fiercely, her face draining of color within seconds, turning a sickly, ghostly pale that almost blended with the white wall. Trembling, she picked up her water glass and gulped some down, then hid her hands under the desk, rubbing and pinching them with all her might, trying to use physical pain to recall her sanity. This was a ticket she had fought so hard to get. If anyone saw her as a "mentally unstable person" who couldn't even control her own breathing, she would be fired on the spot. She couldn't afford to gamble. She thought she was hiding it perfectly. However, Grace, sitting at the head of the table, narrowed her eyes. From the second, Shaw’s breathing grew shallow, and her fingers began to spasm, Grace had noticed. Shaw was too pale—that fragile, almost sickly whiteness, like a porcelain doll about to c***k, was far too piercing in the dim boardroom. Especially her shoulders, hidden beneath the desk but shaking uncontrollably from sheer restraint. Falling into Grace's eyes, it inexplicably tugged at a nerve that had long been dormant in her heart. On stage, the director was still performing tirelessly. Grace did something unprecedented—she raised her hand and made a slight downward gesture. The director’s words cut off instantly, and the entire boardroom became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. "That's enough for today's meeting," Grace spoke calmly. Her voice was low and smooth, yet carried an unyielding, absolute authority. "Good work, everyone. Proceed with the plan." The executives looked at one another in surprise, but no one dared to question the CEO’s decision. They began packing up their things. Hearing those words, Shaw felt as if she had been granted a divine pardon. Without even worrying about manners, she was the very first to rush out of the boardroom before anyone else could move. She needed air. She needed fresh oxygen to suppress the suffocating tightness in her chest. However, the moment she turned into the long hallway, she froze. Grace, who was supposed to leave via the private executive elevator, was actually standing by the floor-to-ceiling window. Shaw’s heart skipped a beat. The lingering panic left her with zero capacity to handle any social pressure; she didn't even have the courage to walk past and say a simple "Hello" to this unreachable boss. Gritting her teeth like a deserter, she hurriedly veered sideways and ducked into the dimly lit restroom nearby. ‘Please... I hope no one looks for me right now... Just let me get through these five minutes...’ Shaw leaned against the locked cubicle door, covering her mouth tightly as tears finally spilled over. What she didn't know was that outside the restroom, Grace was standing quietly not far away. Through the reflection on the frosted glass door of the hallway, Grace stared at the fleeing figure of the girl—so frail and thin that she looked as if a gust of wind could blow her away. A dark, unreadable gleam flickered in the depths of Grace's eyes. For the first time in her life, she felt a profound curiosity toward a lowly intern.