The wrong side of the spotlight

Amani sat by the window of the coffee shop her fingers curled tightly around a paper cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. Outside the city bustled with life, tall glass buildings, people walking past in a blur, the honk of impatient drivers. Everything still felt so unreal like she was staring through a screen rather than a place she now called home. Home. The word felt strange, far fetched even but good. It felt so good. Three weeks ago she had been unpacking boxes in a cramped apartment she could barely afford. The week following she got lost trying to find the nearest grocery store. And just last week she boarded the wrong train which took her all the way to Montreal. God bless liya who helped her translate her way back home. Like an alarm Amani quickly sent her best friend liya a text letting her know she was in front of the building. She looked up once again at the huge glass building opposite the street one of the many buildings belonging to the Vaughn group. Her heart beat faster, louder, she felt a panic attack coming in. “ pay up” the very rude waitress said slamming a bill in front of her. Amani quickly scrambled through her bag pulling out a crumbly note and handed it over. The waitress looked at her weird which left Amani wondering if her clothes were bad. It was her first day,She glanced down at the neatly folded offer letter resting inside her bag, A junior legal assistant position at one of Toronto’s most respected law firms. Not exactly glamorous, but it was a start. Amani had spent years dreaming about opportunities like this. Long nights studying. Endless applications. Rejection emails she’d learned not to take personally. Now she finally made it,She should have been excited, Instead, a knot tightened in her stomach. Because the job wasn’t the only reason she’d moved.Her gaze drifted to the reflection staring back at her in the window. She glanced at the bright caramel skin, dark curls tucked neatly behind her ears. As she stared doubt began to creep in. She quickly looked away. No. She hadn’t crossed countries and uprooted her entire life just to give up before she started. This is supposed to be her fresh start and nothing could stop her, because somewhere in this city was a person she hadn’t seen in years. A person she hadn’t stopped thinking about. Finding them had become less of a goal and more of a quiet ache she carried everywhere. Most days, she convinced herself she was here for her career. On the harder days, she admitted the truth. Taking a deep breath she got up pushed the glass doors open and walked across the the street. She blinked as the towering office building came into clear view it was way bigger than it was from across the street. For a moment she simply stared. Her heart immediately launched into a frantic rhythm as she walked right to the doors of Vaughn empire. At the reception desk sat a woman with sharp eyeliner and an even sharper expression. Her eyes flicked over Amani once, quick, dismissive, then returned to her screen as if Amani had already been categorized as unimportant. “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, without looking up properly. Amani swallowed. “Yes. I’m here for my first day. Junior legal assistant position.” A pause. Then another glance this one slower, more assessing, like she was trying to figure out if Amani had said something funny. “I don’t have anything scheduled under that name.” She said, her eyes very judgmental. But I haven’t even said my name, and I thought up herself pouring a little. “I have an offer letter,” Amani said quickly, reaching into her bag. She placed it on the counter and watched as the receptionist picked it up reluctantly. Scanning it properly. A flicker of surprise crossed her face but was quickly masked. “…This is from Vaughn Empire Chambers?” she said slowly. “Yes,” Amani replied, unsure why that sounded like a problem. The receptionist finally looked at her, a scrutinizing look, Her heart beat like crazy, her eyes looking every where but at the woman. “That’s… interesting,” she said, voice edged with disbelief. “People like you don’t usually get selected directly by the Vaughns.” Amani frowned. “People like me?” The receptionist gave a small, almost amused smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Never mind. Floor 18. Someone will escort you.” She handed the letter back like it had suddenly lost importance. Amani stood there confused, feeling even smaller than she had felt when she had walked in. Then she turned and followed the directions. ⸻ The elevator ride felt too long. Each floor she passed felt like she was rising further away from the version of herself she understood. When the doors finally opened, Floor 18 greeted her with silence. A woman in a tailored suit stood waiting near the entrance. “Ms. George?” she asked. Amani nodded. “I’m your supervisor. You’ll be working under this department’s legal division.” Her tone was professional, warm enough, but controlled. “That’s your desk over there. You’ll be assisting case preparation, document review, and direct filings.” Amani followed her finger, it was a sleek workspace. Glass partitions. Expensive chairs. The kind of place you knew not to make mistakes. But something was missing. Amani hesitated. “And… my boss? The person I report directly to?” The supervisor paused then smiled slightly. “You’ll meet him eventually.” She said clearly not wanting a conversation. Before Amani could ask anything else, another voice cut in. “I still don’t understand why she’s here.” Amani turned, and there a beautiful shapely woman stood, perfectly styled, sharp posture, eyes that looked her up and down like she was dirt. She wasn’t subtle about it. “This isn’t the kind of place you just… walk into,” the woman continued, arms crossed. “Especially not straight under executive oversight.” The supervisor’s expression tightened slightly. “That’s enough, Clarissa.” So that was her name. Clarissa didn’t move. Her gaze stayed on Amani, glaring with unmasked disgust. “She’s not from our world,” Clarissa said softly. “And people like her don’t usually get picked by the Vaughns.” Amani’s chest tightened and the same assumption, it felt so insulting. “What do you mean?” Amani asked carefully. Clarissa finally smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “I mean,” she said, “you don’t just get chosen by the Vaughns for no reason.” Why me? Amani thought to herself Who are the Vaughns and why is she so out of place. Amani sat at her desk long after the supervisor had walked away. The space around her buzzed with quiet efficiency, the clicking away of keyboards, phones ringing in controlled tones, footsteps that never wasted a second, everything moved efficiently. Except her. She looked down at the ID badge they had just given her. Amani George …Junior Legal Assistant it read, It looked official yet It felt temporary. Across the room, Clarissa was speaking with another junior lawyer, her voice low but sharp enough to carry. “She doesn’t belong here,” Clarissa said again, quieter this time, like she was confirming it to herself.Amani pretended not to hear but the words stuck anyway. Her supervisor returned briefly, placing a thin file on her desk. “Start with these documents,” she said kindly. “Don’t worry about the rest yet. You’ll adjust. And try to ignore her.”she whispered the last bit looking Clarissa and offering a small smile. Amani nodded. “Thank you.” The woman hesitated for a moment, like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Instead, she turned and left. Silence settled again. Amani opened the file. Pages of legal jargon stared back at her. Names. Companies. Transactions she didn’t yet understand. She leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes narrowing in thought.Whatever this place was, Amani could feel It was more than just a law firm. Outside the glass walls, the city moved on without her. Inside Vaughn Empire however… It felt like something had already started.Clarissa kept glaring daggers at her and she could feel the air turn cold.freezing. Maybe there was more to this than she thought.