The Corporate Doormat
834 Words
Amanda's POV
Graduation day was supposed to be a gateway to personal ambition, a chance to apply the degree I had silently earned while focusing primarily on Scott’s academic success.
For my peers, it was the moment to launch careers in bustling financial districts.
Many of my classmates were talking about what they wanted to do next, internship, travel abroad, some wanted to continue to pursue their Masters.
For me, it was simply the next stage of following the man who was now my top priority.
I watched Scott Knight cross the stage, his future already laid out: the immediate heir, stepping into his father’s sprawling corporate empire, Knight Industries.
I felt a surge of pride, a ridiculous, unwarranted feeling, as if his success was my own crowning achievement.
As if he was part of me and that we shared the same compartment.
The truth was, I hadn’t even bothered to apply for the prestigious jobs my professors had recommended. I was very smart and many of my professors really liked me.
That was why they recommended me to the prestigious universities to pursue my dream. The thought of working anywhere where Scott wasn't present was like imagining a planet without a sun. Utter darkness.
My twin, Aurora, was fielding calls from major overseas universities, discussing scholarship opportunities for her advanced studies in biology.
"I'm so excited to finally be on my own, Mandy," she'd said, her voice lilting with optimism. "You should find a firm that truly values your potential!"
I smiled vaguely, already drafting my application to Knight Industries.
"Yeah..I will think about it. I hope all your dreams come true” I whispered to her.
The application process was deliberately meticulous. Knight Industries only hired the elite, and while my grades were technically flawless thanks to countless all-nighters, my Beta status meant I was relegated to support roles. I didn't care about the pay grade or the prestige; I only cared about the title: Executive Secretary to the CEO-in-Training.
Which meant I would be closer to Scott even more.
The interview was agonizing. The Head of HR, a stern Alpha woman, looked at my pristine résumé and then at me, the quiet Beta.
"Miss Whitlock," she'd said, flipping a file. "Your academic record suggests you could be managing your own division, yet you're applying for an executive support role. Why here?
Why this specific position, which will require near-total submission to the Alpha's schedule and moods?"
My prepared lie about valuing stability and efficiency felt paper-thin. I wanted to scream, Because if I don’t follow him, I cease to exist!
Instead, I offered the perfect Beta reply: "Sir," I corrected, using the formal address.
"I believe my strengths, organization, neutrality, and meticulous attention to detail are best utilized in a role that directly supports the strategic leadership. I am built for service, and I understand the commitment required to facilitate an Alpha of Mr. Knight’s caliber."
The Alpha woman studied me, looking for any trace of ambition or threat. Finding none, she gave a short, curt nod of approval. I was disposable, but even more reliable.
I got the job.
My new office was a small, elegant space directly adjacent to Scott's expansive corner suite. It was the gate through which all communication, appointments, and personnel passed.
It was a privileged position, for some people, they will feel like it's a cage. But for me, it was the closest thing I had felt to happiness.
On my first day, I meticulously organized his schedule, color-coding priorities and arranging his ergonomic desk setup.
I made sure his imported coffee, the same one I had perfected in college, was waiting for him precisely at 7:45 a.m.
I was never late to deliver it during college and neither would I delay during work where the opportunity to grow closer has come.
When Scott arrived, radiating the confidence of a man who belonged atop a skyscraper, he barely spared me a glance.
He walked past my desk, not acknowledging the new arrangements or the new person.
He simply walked into his suite, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him.
I sat down, my spine perfectly straight against the leather chair, staring at the closed door. I was no longer the silent shadow in the bustling university quad.
I was now the official, salaried Corporate Doormat, permanently fixed at his threshold.
Seven years ago, this felt like a victory.
I had followed my sun into his orbit. I mistook professional proximity for emotional intimacy, believing that the closer I stayed, the sooner he would finally see me.
I pulled out a file, determined to be the most invaluable assistant he would ever forget. The door remained closed.
The silence of the corporate hall was far colder than the bustling noise of the college library. I was alone, staring at an impenetrable barrier, ready to give him everything.
- Writer
