Fated To Ruin

The piercing sound of my alarm yanked me from sleep. I groggily reached for my phone and squinted at the screen. 8:15 AM. Shit. My heart slammed against my ribs as I shot up. I was late. I had planned to wake up early, eat a decent breakfast, and mentally prepare for my first day at Walter Publishing. But of course, fate had other plans. No time to waste. I rushed into the bathroom, turning the water on full blast as I scrubbed my skin in record time. Once I was out, I ran a brush through my damp hair, barely bothering to style it before tying it up into a ponytail. Makeup? Not today. I threw on my finest blazer—a birthday gift from my adoptive parents—over a crisp white shirt. The blazer was slightly worn at the edges, but it still looked professional enough. A quick spritz of perfume later, I grabbed my bag and dashed downstairs. Fumbling with my keys, I slid into the driver’s seat of my 2017 Toyota Camry. I knew it wasn’t the most luxurious car, but it was mine, and I loved it too much to care about what anyone thought. I turned the ignition, shifted gears, and sped off, completely forgetting my lunch in the process. The streets were already packed with Monday morning commuters. As I approached an intersection, the traffic light flipped from green to red, forcing me to a halt. I gripped the steering wheel, tapping my fingers anxiously. “God, is this a sign?” I muttered under my breath I inhaled sharply, forcing down the nerves swirling in my stomach. This job meant everything to me—I couldn't afford to screw it up. The light shifted to yellow. I tightened my grip on the wheel. Green. I slammed my foot on the gas pedal and bolted forward, narrowly overtaking a speeding car. A miracle I didn’t cause an accident. Minutes later, I pulled into the massive parking lot of Walter Publishing. The towering glass-and-steel building gleamed in the morning sun. The bold letters above the entrance read: WALTER PUBLISHING A wave of nerves hit me as I stepped out of my car. This was it. My dream job. Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my blazer, straightened my posture, and made my way inside. The moment I entered, I ran my eyes through the interior of the massive building. Employees rushed around, carrying stacks of files, flipping through manuscripts, or talking into their phones. The air buzzed with energy—the unmistakable hum of a place where creativity thrived. I approached the front desk, where a young woman sat, typing away at her computer. “Good morning,” I greeted with a bright smile. She looked up and returned my smile. “Good morning! How can I help you?” “I’m Annabelle Rosaline,” I said, shifting on my feet. Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! The new editorial assistant?” “Yeah, I guess…” I muttered under my breath, still unsure if I had actually landed the job. She chuckled. “Follow me.” I did as instructed, trailing behind her as my eyes wandered in awe at the interior. The office was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, sleek wooden desks, and glass partitions that gave everything a modern yet welcoming feel. Employees sat at their workstations, flipping through manuscripts, holding discussions, or engaging in heated calls with clients. We stopped at an elevator. The receptionist pressed a button, and the doors slid open. Level 15. As we stepped out, she noticed my tense situation “We are almost there” she said with a smile, soon we approach an office at the end of the lobby “I think I would leave it to you then” she said with a smile and started walking away “And Ms. Rosaline” she looked back with a smile “Good luck” she mouthed and continue walking towards the elevator I stood in front of the office I exhaled sharply. Now or never. My palms were clammy as I raised my hand to knock. Before I could, a deep voice called from inside. “Come in.” I pushed the door open and stepped into the spacious office. A middle-aged man sat behind a desk buried under stacks of manuscripts and a half-empty cup of coffee. His bookshelves were neatly arranged, but his desk was scattered with manuscript His nameplate read: SIMONE USMAN : SENIOR CHIEF EDITOR I swallowed the lump in my throat. This was my boss. “Good morning, sir.” My voice wavered slightly. He glanced up, adjusting his glasses. “Annabelle Rosaline?” “Yes, sir.” He flipped through a folder before nodding. “I’ve reviewed your résumé, and I must say, I’m impressed. Your transcript showed excellent grades.” “uhmm, my transcript” I interrupted with a furrowed brow and an obviously confused look “Yes, we contacted your college and requested your academic transcript.” I blinked in surprise. Oh. I forced a smile, masking my confusion. He set the folder aside. “That would be all for now. And congratulations, you got the job. You start effective immediately.” I blinked again. Wait… just like that? Excitement bubbled in my chest. “Thank you, sir! I promise I won’t disappoint you.” I said with a smile His smile faded slightly. “You better not.” His tone was serious, almost icy. He pressed a button on his phone. “Send Mr. Thomas over to my office. Now.” Less than a minute later, the door opened, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man in a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a red tie. “Sir, you called for me?” His voice was deep and steady. “Yes. Thomas, this is Ms. Rosaline, our new Editorial Assistant. Show her around.” Thomas’s sharp gaze flickered over me with mild intrigue before he gave a slight nod. “Ms. Rosaline,” Mr. Usman continued, “I’ve emailed you your job description and contract. Read through it carefully.” “Yes, sir.” I nodded as Thomas and I turned to leave. Just as we reached the door, Mr. Usman’s voice rang out once more. “And Ms. Rosaline…” I turned back. A small smirk played on his lips. “Welcome to Walter Publishing.”