CHAPTER FOUR: The view
1169 Words
Aron’s POV
Aron Hale didn’t believe in coincidences. In his world, things either happened because he planned them — or because someone failed to.
And right now, someone had failed.
He closed the door behind him and set his tablet on the table. “How many candidates did we interview today?”
“Six,” said Reynolds, his HR director, clearing his throat. “We just finished the last one, sir.”
“Any good?”
Reynolds hesitated — the kind of hesitation Aron hated. “Competent enough. A few with solid experience, one with a degree in marketing. She seemed… capable.”
“She?”
“Yes. Lilian Carter.”
Aron’s brow twitched. “Marketing? For a secretary role?”
“Apparently, she wanted something stable. Moved here recently.”
“Stable,” he repeated flatly, sitting down. “People who say that usually mean running from something.”
The room went silent. Ms. Voss, the communications lead, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She’d worked with Aron long enough to recognize the tone that meant he was thinking — not just about the words, but about the person behind them.
He flipped through the folder Reynolds slid across the desk. Resume. Photo. References.
The photo caught his attention first. It was simple — no glamour, no filters. Just a woman with clear eyes and an expression that didn’t quite smile. Something about it was… steady. Composed. Like she’d learned the art of pretending everything was fine.
He ignored the strange twist in his chest and skimmed the rest. Bachelor’s in Marketing, Brookline Advertising, three years of project coordination, then a year gap with no listed employment.
He looked up. “Gap year?”
Reynolds adjusted his glasses. “She said she relocated for personal reasons.”
“Personal reasons.” Aron’s voice was dry. “Which is code for don’t ask.”
“She seems like she can handle pressure,” Ms. Voss offered. “And she’s calm. You could use someone who doesn’t cry at your tone of voice.”
Aron gave a faint, humorless smirk. “You’re saying I scare them?”
Daniel, the youngest of the three, muttered, “A little, sir.”
Aron ignored him and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t need someone who handles pressure. I need someone who anticipates it.” He closed the folder and tapped it once. “Grace did. That’s why she lasted four years.”
The silence that followed was awkward. Everyone in the room knew better than to bring up Grace — his previous secretary — in any tone that implied replacement. Grace had been exceptional. Reliable. Predictable. She knew what he needed before he asked, which, in Aron’s book, made her irreplaceable.
And yet she’d left — for something as ordinary as marriage.
Aron stood, restless energy radiating off him. “Set up second interviews for the top two candidates,” he said, already walking to the door.
“Of course,” Reynolds replied. “Should I include Ms. Carter?”
He paused, hand on the door handle.
That name again.
He thought of the woman from earlier — the one who nearly walked into him outside the conference room. She’d looked startled, then composed herself in an instant. Most people flinched when they realized who he was. She didn’t.
Her eyes had met his, steady and unguarded, like she didn’t know — or didn’t care — that he was the man whose name was carved into the building.
“Include her,” he said finally. “Let’s see if stability is all she’s after.”
He didn’t wait for a response and stepped out into the hallway.
His office sat at the far end of the executive floor — glass walls overlooking the skyline, every inch as immaculate as the image he projected. The view was breathtaking, but Aron barely noticed it anymore. Success, he’d learned, lost its shine once you reached the top.
He loosened his tie and sank into the leather chair behind his desk, rubbing his temples.
He should’ve been focusing on the upcoming investors’ meeting, the merger, the quarterly reports. Instead, his mind kept drifting back to that single glance — the subtle wariness in her eyes, the quiet confidence she tried to hide.
He wasn’t interested in his employees — not personally, anyway. He’d made that mistake once, years ago, when he let someone too close. It had cost him more than money; it had cost him trust. Since then, he’d kept everything professional. Clean. Controlled.
But something about her unsettled that balance.
Maybe it was the mystery — the small inconsistencies. Overqualified for the role. A gap year that didn’t add up. The kind of stillness that only came from surviving something.
He leaned back, eyes on the city through the glass.
People thought power was about control — about commanding others. But the truth was, real power was about understanding what people didn’t say. What they tried to hide.
And Lilian Carter, whoever she was, was hiding something.
A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.
It was Ethan, his business partner and oldest friend, carrying a cup of espresso and a grin that usually meant trouble.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Ethan said, setting the cup down. “What’s the crisis today? Stock drop? Board rebellion? Or did someone misalign your stapler again?”
Aron gave him a look. “Grace’s replacement.”
“Ah,” Ethan said, dropping into a chair. “The legend herself. Good luck finding another woman who tolerated your version of normal.”
“I’m not looking for tolerance. I’m looking for competence.”
Ethan chuckled. “You mean someone who doesn’t cry when you say good morning?”
Aron ignored the jab and opened the folder again. “There’s one candidate who stands out.”
“Oh?” Ethan leaned forward. “Pretty?”
“Professional.”
“That’s billionaire code for pretty.”
Aron shot him a glare, but Ethan just grinned wider.
“Relax,” Ethan said. “You could use some new energy around here. The last time I saw you genuinely smile was… actually, never.”
Aron closed the folder. “She’s not here for me to smile at. She’s here to work.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
Ethan stood, taking the untouched espresso. “By the way, I scheduled that investor dinner for Friday. And if you’re planning on being this broody the whole week, I’m sitting next to someone else.”
When he was gone, the silence returned — heavier than before.
Aron turned the folder over in his hands once more.
Lilian Carter.
He couldn’t explain why her name kept echoing in his head. Maybe it was intuition — that sixth sense that warned him when someone would matter.
He didn’t believe in coincidences. But he did believe in patterns — and something about her felt like the beginning of one.
- Writer
