Amelia smoothed her pencil skirt for the third time as the elevator climbed to the 42nd floor. First days were supposed to feel nervous, but this felt different—like stepping into something already burning.
The office was all glass and dark wood, quiet except for the low hum of the city far below. HR had given her the quick tour, handed her a keycard, and disappeared. Now it was just her, the empty reception desk, and the heavy door marked PRIVATE at the end of the hall.
At 6:47 p.m. her phone buzzed.
Conference room. Now.
No name. No please.
She swallowed, heels clicking too loud on the marble as she walked.
When she pushed the door open, the air changed. Thicker. Hotter.
Victor stood by the window, arms crossed, suit jacket open just enough to show the crisp white shirt stretched
