Hearts and Scars

I should have known today would be a disaster when I woke up to the sound of thunder and my own heart screaming with terror. I grabbed my laptop against my breast as I rushed inside Sterling Towers, my flats soaking, hair dripping wet. The marble floors glittered beneath dazzling lights, teasing me with their magnificence. I shoved through the spinning glass door, breathing hard. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I couldn’t afford to botch up today. This presentation was my final opportunity for permanent employment before my internship expired. The elevator dinged open, and I walked inside, pressing the top floor with shaky fingers. As the doors closed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored walls - damp hair sticking to my pale face, mascara smeared beneath my eyes, and my blue shirt glued to my skin. “God, please let me get through this,” I murmured. When the doors opened, Sterling Empire’s executive level sprawled out before me in shining wood, glass panels, and rich velvet rugs. The air smelt like expensive cologne and strength. Damon Sterling’s assistant, Claire, peered up from her desk, her lips twisting into a sneer. “You’re late. He dislikes waiting.” “I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, catching my breath. “Go in. But don’t expect him to be forgiving,” she said, tapping her manicured nails on the desk. I swallowed the knot in my throat and proceeded towards his office. The frosted glass doors towered before me like the gates of judgement. With shaky palms, I knocked twice. “Enter.” His booming voice resonated like a mandate from a god I didn’t believe in longer. I pushed open the door and walked in. The office was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows presented a gloomy Manhattan skyline soaked in rain. The walls were decorated with dark mahogany bookcases filled with prizes and literature. In the middle stood a massive black marble desk where he sat, reading something on his laptop. Damon Sterling. The Ruthless King of Wall Street. His dark hair was well groomed, falling slightly across his forehead. Sharp cheekbones framed his icy, expressionless face. His obsidian eyes flashed up at me briefly before returning to his screen. “Miss Hayes, you’re late,” he stated without passion. “I’m… I’m sorry, Mr Sterling. The trains were delayed because of the storm, and then my umbrella snapped, and ” He lifted a hand, silencing me. His stare raised slowly, capturing me where I stood. “I don’t need your excuses,” he murmured gently, which oddly seemed scarier than if he’d roared. “I need results. You have 10 minutes. Start.” I stepped forward on shaking legs, opened my laptop and attached it to the projector. My fingers trembled so hard I nearly dropped the HDMI cable. I heard him groan as if he couldn’t stand my stupidity another second. “Today I will present my analysis on Sterling Empire’s international expansion strategy,” I said, my voice cracking. “I reviewed the Asian market trends and analysed potential risk factors alongside the projected ROIs for the next fiscal year.” He said nothing. His eyes were unfathomable, his face chiseled from stone. I swallowed and proceeded, clicking to the next slide. “Based on regional GDP growth rates, I recommend diversifying investments into South Korea’s fintech sector and Vietnam’s manufacturing, which are showing a combined annual growth potential of” “Stop.” My heart practically stopped with his one phrase. The room went silent save for the rain pelting the windows. “Tell me something, Miss Hayes.” He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms across his big chest. His clean white shirt strained across his muscles, the first button undone, giving a glimpse of tanned flesh. “Why do you think Sterling Empire should listen to an intern’s recommendations about billion-dollar investments?” My lips opened and closed, terror building in my chest. “I… I’ve spent the past three months examining your worldwide expansion statistics in depth. I’ve also examined Professor Yang’s comparative strategy framework ” “Textbook theories,” he cut in, voice like ice. “Do you know what theories are, Miss Hayes?” I shook my head slightly, tears blazing behind my eyes. He c****d his head, gaze narrowing. “They’re illusions. Until you implement them in the actual world, they’re meaningless. Just like your presentation.” His words sliced into my chest like poisoned knives. “But” “Enough,” he responded angrily. “I don’t have time for mediocrity today.” The room whirled around me. The presentation I’d spent nights perfecting…the optimism I held to for a permanent job…evaporated under his chilly stare. I stifled the sob that tried to escape. “Thank you for your time, Mr Sterling.” He said nothing. Just watched me as I collected my laptop with shaky hands. As I turned to go, I felt his eyes on me. I froze when his voice, weaker now, pierced through the silence. “What happened to your collarbone?” I tensed, puzzled. “Excuse me?” His eyes, dark and inscrutable, moved to the thin scar peeping from my moist blouse collar. “Your scar. Did you fall? Or was it something else?” I immediately pulled my blouse closed, heart racing. Why was he asking me that? “I… It’s nothing. Just an old injury.” He gazed at me for a long, oppressive minute. Something flickered in his gaze, fury, despair, or recognition – I couldn’t tell. Then it evaporated, replaced by his customary chilly indifference. “Close the door on your way out.” I nodded hastily and fled, slamming the door behind me with shaky fingers. Outside, Claire grinned. “How did it go?” I ignored her, walked towards the elevator with tears obscuring my vision. My chest felt constricted, my lungs refusing to operate. I hit the elevator button again, anxious to leave before the sobbing burst loose. As the doors closed around me, I let the tears flow softly. As Aurora emerges into the rain outside Sterling Towers, she feels his stare lingering behind the glass walls. Why did he stare at me like that? Like he sensed the darkness I fought so hard to hide…