His Shattered Rose

Chapter Two

Elena's POV

The small apartment smelled faintly of antiseptic and instant noodles. It was already late in the night. Mom was asleep in the corner, her breathing shallow but steady. I tiptoed around the room, careful not to wake her. My phone buzzed on the counter.

Another rejection email, just when I had been hoping for a job offer that would finally let me escape Hale’s company. The truth was, I wasn’t even sure I was ready.

I groaned, dropping onto the chair. “Why does it feel like the world is conspiring against me?” I muttered.

“Because it probably is,” a voice said softly. I jumped, nearly spilling my coffee.

Mom was awake now, leaning against her pillow. Her hand reached out to mine. “Elena… you’re doing your best. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she whispered.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “I know, Mom. But I feel… invisible. Everyone’s moving on, living their lives. And I’m stuck here.”

She squeezed my hand gently. “You’re stronger than you think. You always have been. You’ve survived so much already.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It doesn’t feel like it. Some days… Some days I want to disappear.”

“You won’t disappear,” Mom said softly, her voice trembling. “Not while I’m here. Not while you’re here. We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Her words comforted me, but they didn’t fill the hollow ache inside. I glanced at the laptop again. The email from Hale Enterprises was still open. Dominic Hale. CEO. Powerful. Cold. Untouchable.

I rubbed my temples. “Do I even stand a chance?” I whispered to myself.

Mom tilted her head, eyes kind but firm. “You won’t know if you don’t try. You have nothing to lose, Elena. Remember that.”

I nodded slowly, trying to swallow the knot in my throat. I spent the next hour rehearsing my answers. Questions about management, organization, my skills — I knew them all, but my hands shook every time I read them aloud.

I whispered to myself, “You will be fine and you will get this job. That’s all that matters.”

---

The next morning, I left early, wanting to arrive ahead of time. Hale Enterprises towered above me, glass windows reflecting the rising sun. It was intimidating, and I felt small under its massive doors.

As I stepped inside, the receptionist smiled politely. “You must be Ms. Vaughn. Mr. Hale is expecting you. Please have a seat.”

I nodded, clutching my portfolio like a shield. The lobby buzzed with people rushing past, all seemingly confident and capable. I felt like I didn’t belong.

After a few minutes, HR arrived. “Ms. Vaughn, we’ll take you to the office. The interview will be brief but thorough. Mr. Hale is very busy.” She gave a polite nod and led me down a sleek corridor.

My heart raced with every step. I could feel my hands start to sweat.

The office door opened. I stepped inside.

It was enormous, minimalist, and intimidating. At the center, behind a massive desk, sat a man I had only seen in photos: tall, broad-shouldered, eyes sharp and calculating.

“Ms. Vaughn,” he said without looking up. His voice was calm but carried authority. I straightened immediately. “Have a seat.”

I did. My hands shook as I opened my portfolio. He glanced at it once, then returned to his work. The silence stretched. My pulse raced, echoing in my ears.

Finally, I found my voice. “I’ve prepared the documents you requested, and I’m ready to discuss how I can assist in any capacity…”

He didn’t respond. My stomach twisted. I cleared my throat. “I… I know you’re busy, but I’m eager to contribute to Hale Enterprises.”

His eyes flicked up briefly, scanned mine, then returned to his papers. My chest tightened. Was this normal? Was I doing something wrong?

I swallowed and tried again. “I… I can adapt. Learn quickly. I’ll do whatever is needed.”

Still silent. My throat burned. I bit my lip. “I… I won’t disappoint you.”

Finally, he set the pen down and looked directly at me. His gaze was sharp, almost unreadable. But then he went back to his work without a word.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of HR-led tests, forms, and assessments. I barely ate. I barely breathed. All I could think about was surviving this day. Making a good impression. Holding myself together.

Finally, HR pulled me aside. “Congratulations, Ms. Vaughn. You are hired as Mr. Hale’s personal assistant. Your first day starts immediately.”

I blinked, unable to speak. My chest heaved. “Th-thank you,” I finally managed.

---

Walking back to the subway later, my hands still trembling, I whispered to myself, “This is it. My chance. Don’t mess it up.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that being hired was only the beginning. Something about Hale Enterprises, about Dominic Hale himself, felt… dangerous. Like walking into a storm that I didn’t know how to survive.

I reached the apartment, heart still pounding.

Then my phone buzzed. A news alert flashed across the screen:

“Hale Enterprises CEO Dominic Hale sets record-breaking acquisitions this month.”

I froze. My hands shook as I gripped the phone. Tomorrow, I step into that world. And I have no idea what I’m really walking into.

I stared at the news headline again, my pulse skipping.

Then another article loaded automatically beneath it, one I hadn’t clicked.

“The Untouchable CEO: Why No Assistant Lasts Longer Than a Week Under Dominic Hale.”

A chill slid through me.

The comments section refreshed on its own, the top one catching my eye:

“If she’s the new girl… she should run while she still can.”

My hands shook.

Run?

From what?

Or… from whom?

I closed the laptop softly.

Tomorrow, I will find out.

Whether I was ready or not.