Episode 11 : The First Collision
1140 Words
The night had barely settled after the blast outside the convenience store. Dust still lingered in the air, and whispers traveled faster than smoke: Zayden Russo is back.
Vincent stood beside his car, jaw tight, fists clenched. His men looked on, waiting for his orders, but his gaze kept flicking toward the crowd where Elena had disappeared. He had found her once. He would find her again.
But now—Zayden.
The elder Russo leaned casually against his black car, smirk cutting through the haze. His arrival was never quiet; it was a declaration. Wherever Zayden stepped, the ground shifted.
“Little brother,” he drawled, voice laced with mockery. “You’ve been busy. Killing Marco. Chasing girls. Losing your temper.”
Vincent’s lips curled, half-snarl, half-smile. “Better than rotting in your office, hiding behind paperwork.”
The two men stood, locked in a silent battle of wills, their words like blades sparking in the air.
But before their argument could erupt, Zayden’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, frown flashing across his face. His father’s warning still echoed in his mind: Step into the company at least once, or step down as CEO.
With one last smirk at Vincent, Zayden pushed off the car. “Family matters will wait. I’ve got an empire to remind who’s in charge.”
He slid into the driver’s seat, tires screaming as he pulled away—his path diverging from Vincent’s blood-stained streets and into the cold steel corridors of power.
..............
The alarm buzzed before dawn, shrill and unforgiving. Fuggy slapped at the clock, her heart already thundering. First day. Don’t be late. Don’t mess this up.
She stood before her small mirror, adjusting the collar of her oversized cream shirt. It hung loose on her frame, paired with baggy trousers and a plain gray cardigan. No makeup, no jewelry—only her thick glasses sliding down her nose. She tied her hair back into a tight ponytail, leaving nothing of her face uncovered except the nervous bite of her lower lip.
“It’s fine,” she whispered to her reflection. “If no one notices me, that’s perfect.”
Bag on shoulder, she rushed out.
The city traffic was merciless. Horns blared, scooters weaved through gaps, and the cab barely crawled forward. Fuggy gripped her bag like a lifeline. Not today. Not on my first day.
By the time the building came into sight—a tower of steel and glass—her palms were damp. She jumped out, clutching a paper cup of coffee for courage, and ran toward the revolving doors.
She was almost at the elevators when the world tilted. Someone broad and unmovable collided with her. Coffee spilled in a dark splash across polished leather shoes.
Fuggy froze.
Her head bowed so low her glasses nearly slipped off. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—I’m so sorry—”
The man’s voice cut sharp. “Who the hell are you to spoil my brand new shoes?”
The weight of his glare pressed against her bowed head. She couldn’t look up. Words tangled in her throat, spilling in broken fragments. “I… I didn’t mean to spill it… I was just—running—please, I—”
“Can’t you even talk properly?” His tone hardened, impatient, dangerous. “Or are you dumb?”
The elevator dinged. He stepped inside without another glance, the air around him bristling with fury.
Fuggy’s legs moved before her mind caught up, dragging her into the lift at the last second.
The ride stretched in unbearable silence.
He stood tall at the center, suit tailored like armor, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was a blade: “Tell the board if they don’t fall in line, I’ll crush their shares myself. No excuses.”
Fuggy pressed herself against the corner, clutching her bag to her chest. Her reflection in the mirror-polished doors looked small, pitiful.
She didn’t dare breathe too loud.
The elevator opened on the executive floor. He walked out, not sparing her a single glance. She exhaled shakily, rushing toward the washroom before her legs gave way.
The fluorescent lights hummed. She splashed cold water on her face, whispering to the mirror.
“i***t. Stupid i***t. First day and you already messed up. Why didn’t you just watch where you were going?”
Her reflection blurred behind the fog of her glasses. She yanked out tissues, blotting her trembling hands.
Calm down. No one knows you yet. You can still fix this.
Meanwhile, the man she had ruined stormed through the office.
“Good morning, Mr. Russo.”
“Chief.”
“Sir.”
Greetings fell like dominos, each more nervous than the last. Employees stiffened in their seats as the tall figure passed, his stride deliberate, his face unreadable.
Zayden Russo didn’t pause, didn’t acknowledge. He pushed through the glass doors of his cabin, the weight of his presence lingering long after he disappeared inside.
Fuggy walked onto the admin floor moments later, her steps small and uncertain.
Heads turned. Whispers sparked.
“Who let her in here?”
“She looks like she came straight from a library.”
“No makeup at all… and those glasses…”
“She’s probably someone’s pity hire.”
Their smirks stung sharper than the words. She lowered her gaze, tightening her grip on her file. If she made herself invisible, maybe they’d forget she existed.
“Enough,” a voice interrupted.
Mr. Harris—her new team lead—strode forward. A man in his forties, kind eyes behind rimmed glasses, holding authority without cruelty.
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “This is Fuggy, our new admin assistant. She’ll be supporting all departments. Treat her with the respect you’d give anyone else.”
Some looked away. Others rolled their eyes.
Fuggy whispered, “Thank you…”
“Don’t mind them,” Harris said quietly. “They talk too much. You’ll be fine.”
He checked his watch, then nodded. “Wait here. I’ll introduce you to the Chief once he’s free.”
Her heart sank. Chief.
She nodded, clutching her file tighter, standing awkwardly by a desk as eyes still darted toward her. Her stomach churned with nerves.
Minutes later, Harris approached the cabin door. The plaque gleamed: Zayden Russo – CEO.
Fuggy’s breath caught.
Russo. The name pressed against her memory like a wound.
Her pulse raced as Harris knocked gently and opened the door.
Zayden looked up from his desk, expression sharp as glass.
The same man.
The same shoes she had ruined.
Fuggy froze, realization crashing down as her glasses slid further down her nose.
The man she had spilled coffee on this morning… was her new boss.
And he was looking right at her.
- Writer
