Chapter Three
1224 Words
Elena's POV
It was my first day at work.
The elevator chimed sharply, making my heart jump. I stepped out with trembling hands, wiping my palms on my skirt for the third time. The twenty-eighth floor was a different world—cold, fast, relentless. People moved with purpose, phones pressed to ears, eyes fixed on screens, voices blending into a low hum of urgency.
My chest tightened.
“Excuse me,” I whispered to a woman carrying a tray of coffee. “The CEO’s office?”
Without slowing, she pointed towards the last door. “End of the hall. Don’t keep him waiting.”
“I’m not late,” I murmured.
She snorted softly. “He won’t care.”
I swallowed and walked forward, each step heavier than the last. When I reached the door, I drew in a shallow breath and knocked lightly.
“Come in,” a deep, clipped voice replied.
I pushed it open. Dominic Hale sat behind a massive desk, the pen moving across documents at a pace that made my pulse race. His presence filled the room with an invisible pressure. He didn’t look up. He didn’t pause. He barely breathed.
“Good morning sir,” I said softly. “I’m your new…”
“I know who you are,” he interrupted without lifting his eyes.
My throat tightened. “Right. I’m here to begin.”
“Then begin.”
I forced a small smile that felt hollow even to me. I stepped towards a stack of files on the credenza, determined not to mess up.
His eyes flicked up for a fraction of a second—cold, calculating, sharp. And then returned to the document.
I turned quickly, fingers brushing the top folder.
The files slipped.
Papers scattered across the floor like feathers caught in a sudden gust.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry.” I knelt quickly, grabbing them, hands shaking. “I didn’t mean…”
“Stand up.”
I froze. “Sir?”
“Stand. Up.”
The words pressed against me, heavier than any tone of voice should be. Slowly, I rose, clutching the papers.
“You’re nervous,” he said quietly.
“I… I’m fine,” I whispered.
“No. You’re not.”
My lips parted, but no sound escaped. He stepped closer, close enough to make the air feel tight.
“Control your voice,” he said.
“I’m trying,” I replied.
“Try harder.”
A sharp sting bloomed in my chest, but I squared my shoulders.
“I will do this job well,” I said. “You can count on me.”
His gaze held mine, unreadable and cold, then flicked back to the papers.
“We’ll see.”
I finished gathering the documents and arranged them neatly on the edge of his desk. He didn’t thank me. He didn’t acknowledge the effort.
“Go to HR,” he said. “They’ll train you. Clearly, you need it.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And Elena,” he added.
My hand froze on the door handle.
“Yes?”
“Don’t play games. Not here.”
“I’m not playing anything,” I said softly.
He nodded. “Your desk is over there,” he said, pointing towards it.
My desk was placed directly outside Dominic Hale’s office, with only a glass wall between us. Nothing to hide behind. Just polished wood, a computer, a phone that demanded constant attention, and his office watching me through the glass.
He turned back to his work, shutting me out with the slightest movement. My chest heaved, breath caught somewhere between hope and panic.
---
The next few days passed like a storm.
I woke before sunrise, rushed through crowded buses, arrived breathless, and still felt behind. Every comment from him cut sharper than words normally could.
“These figures are wrong. Fix them.”
“But they…”
“Fix them.”
“Your typing is slow.”
“I typed as fast as I…”
“Not fast enough.”
“Give the board these files.”
“Which ones?”
“All. Shouldn’t you already know?”
Each hour felt like climbing a mountain, lungs burning. Losing my father, losing our home, watching my mother’s health fade—it had hardened me more than I realized.
I told myself, This job keeps us alive. Keep moving. Stay calm.
Still, the weight in my chest never eased.
By the third day, while arranging his meeting schedule, I dared a glance up. He was already watching, his gaze was sharp, intense, as if it could burn through me. I looked away instantly.
---
One evening, after a long meeting, the office had emptied. I stayed behind, collecting leftover files, thinking the day was over.
“Move faster,” he said from behind me.
I jumped, nearly dropping another stack. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were distracted.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Tired isn’t an excuse.”
I nodded and continued, stacking papers carefully.
“You’ve been here for days,” he said quietly. “And you still seem unsure.”
“I’m learning,” I whispered.
“Learn faster.”
I turned, meeting his stare before I could stop myself. “I’m doing everything I can.”
“Not enough.”
My throat tightened. “What do you want from me?”
His jaw tightened. “Clarity. Honesty.”
“I’ve been honest.”
He regarded me with a cold anger that didn’t belong in this room, a weight older than both of us.
“Leave,” he said finally. “We’re done.”
I walked out slowly, trying to hide the tremble in my hands. His words echoed, a storm that followed me all the way home.
---
The apartment was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of a lamp. My mother turned her head slowly.
“Elena?” she asked. “You’re late.”
“Traffic,” I muttered, forcing a smile.
“Come here. Tell me about work.”
I tried, but the flood of stress and exhaustion broke through. My chest heaved, my throat burned, and tears spilled before I could stop them.
“Sweetheart,” she whispered, hand reaching for mine. “What happened?”
“I’m trying, Mama,” I choked. “I’m trying so hard. But he… he talks to me like I’m nothing.”
“You aren’t.”
“I don’t understand why he’s so cold. I do everything I can, and it’s never enough. Maybe one day he’ll see it, but…”
She placed her good hand over mine, gentle and steady. “Some people carry storms inside them. You can’t calm the clouds. You can only stand through the rain.”
“What if it never ends?” I whispered.
“It will,” she said. “And when it does, you’ll still be standing because you didn’t give up.”
I rested my head on her shoulder, inhaling the warmth.
“You’re strong, Elena,” she murmured.
“You’ve survived worse than a harsh man’s words.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “I just want a chance.”
“And you’ll get it. Keep going, my child.”
I nodded, holding onto her hand tightly.
- Writer
