Under his terms

Elena Monroe hated running. Not because she couldn’t, but because she refused to look unprepared. The morning crowd surged out of the Tube station in a blur of dark coats and muted umbrellas, the London sky hanging low and undecided above them. She checked the time on her phone and adjusted her pace… not frantic, just faster and Controlled. Her heel struck pavement in steady rhythm, Coffee in one hand and Phone wedged between shoulder and ear. “Yes, Mum. I know,” she said quietly, weaving through commuters. “I’ll sort it.” A pause. Her jaw tightened slightly, but her voice remained even. “Don’t call the school again. I said I’ll handle it.” The call ended just as the glass façade of Cole & Harrington rose before her, sleek and indifferent against the grey sky. Elena slipped her phone into her coat pocket, smoothed her blazer, and entered the building as if nothing pressed on her shoulders at all. The reception desk gleamed under soft lighting. Polished marble and controlled smiles. The scent of expensive coffee drifting from somewhere unseen. “Morning, Elena,” the receptionist greeted. She returned the nod, already mentally reviewing the 9 a.m. client file..By the time she reached her desk, she was composed. Not a trace of the earlier call showed in her posture. At 9:03, a difficult client demanded revisions that had already been approved. Elena listened without interruption, fingers poised above her keyboard. “I understand your concern,” she said calmly. “However, if we adjust the figures again, it will compromise the proposal’s credibility. May I suggest we review the projections together?” Silence on the other end. Then reluctant agreement. When the call ended, a colleague leaned over the partition. “How do you do that?” Elena offered a small smile. “Preparation.” Inside, irritation flickered. Entitlement disguised as authority. Men who signed papers but never read them but automatically want things to work their way. She exhaled and reached for her coffee. Across the office floor, whispers travelled faster than emails. She sighed!! Colleagues at it again. “Board visit this week.” “Major shareholder flying in.” “Intern reviews moving forward.” Elena stilled. Her contract renewal wasn’t until next month. Impressions matter this week, her supervisor had said earlier, voice deliberately neutral. Elena adjusted her blazer and turned back to her screen. She had no intention of losing. Elena turned back to her screen, but the numbers blurred for a fraction of a second. Electricity bill. School fees. Her mother’s careful tone. She hated that tone most of all!!! She wondered why she was always the one to carry the whole weight .. It wasn’t desperation. It was restraint. Her family had never asked for luxury. Only stability. And stability was expensive without a stable source of income. She opened her banking app briefly beneath the desk. The salary from her internship had arrived three days ago. After rent, transport, and groceries, there was enough to send home but barely enough to leave her own account comfortable, pains surged through her throat …Temporary discomfort, she reminded herself. Permanent position first!! Security second.!! Breathing space later!!! Across the open-plan office, the other interns gathered near the printer, speaking in lowered voices that were not as discreet as they believed. “Did you hear?” “They’re accelerating performance reviews.” “I heard only one position might open this quarter.” Elena didn’t join them. Instead she sat down to strategize. Competition was easier when you pretended it didn’t exist. Her desk was immaculate , colour-coded tabs, aligned pens, files stacked with deliberate symmetry. Control in small things when larger things refused to cooperate. Her supervisor, Mr. Harding, appeared beside her desk without warning. “Elena.” She looked up immediately. “Yes?” “Client feedback was positive.” He adjusted his cufflinks. “Keep that standard.” “Of course.” A pause. “There will be visitors from the board this week,” he continued. “I expect discretion. Professionalism. No… informality.” Her gaze held steady. “Understood.” He nodded once and walked away. Informality. She almost smiled. The office ran on informal favours and formal hierarchies. Assistants who knew more than directors, Interns who worked harder than managers, Shareholders who visited twice a year and shifted entire departments with a signature. Power was rarely loud. It was administrative. Her phone buzzed again. A message from her younger brother. They said if I don’t pay by Friday, I can’t sit the mock exams. Elena stared at the text for a moment longer than necessary. Mock exams. Seventeen years old and already learning that opportunity had deadlines, what a shame!! She typed back: You will sit the exam. Leave it to me. No emojis. No reassurance she couldn’t guarantee but knew something would happen She placed the phone face down and returned to work. Around midday, the sky darkened further, rain tapping softly against the wide windows overlooking the city. From this height, London looked distant and orderly. Traffic reduced to quiet patterns. People below no larger than moving dots. She often wondered what it would feel like to stand on the other side of the glass in the executive offices above where decisions were made without anxiety over direct debits , where power was within reach .. But ambition, she had learned, required silence. The louder interns rarely lasted. At lunch, she declined an invitation to join the others downstairs. Instead, she ate at her desk a simple meal packed from home and reviewed a proposal twice more than necessary. Not because she doubted her work. Because she refused to be the weak link. By three o’clock, tension threaded quietly through the floor. Senior managers moved quicker. Emails marked “urgent” multiplied. Elena caught fragments in passing: “Image matters.” “Public stability.” “Reputation.” Something larger than routine was shifting. Near closing time, Mr. Harding gathered the interns briefly. “As you’re aware, several key shareholders will be visiting over the coming days. You are representatives of this firm whether you realise it or not. Conduct yourselves accordingly.” A glance passed between two interns. One whispered, “This is about promotions.” Elena didn’t react. She was already calculating. If reviews were moving forward, she would need flawless performance. No errors. No missteps. No emotional reactions. She packed her laptop precisely at six fifteen not early, not late. Consistent. As she waited for the lift, she checked her bank balance one more time. A decision settled quietly in her chest. She would send the money tonight. Her comfort could wait. The lift doors opened with a soft chime. She stepped inside, alone for the moment, and watched the numbers descend. Her reflection in the mirrored wall looked composed. Ambitious. Untouchable. No one in this building would guess that a single missed promotion could collapse everything she was holding together. The doors slid open to the lobby. Outside, the rain had intensified. Elena stepped into the London evening, unaware that by this time next week, control would become a negotiation.