Ascending To Him

~ Lyra Thorne ~ ​"Lyra! Get over here, now!" ​Emma Johnson’s shrill voice echoed through the hallway, forcing me to drop the hundreds of logistics invoices in my hand. Emma was my boss. Officially, I was an "Executive Assistant," but in reality, I was more like Emma’s personal servant. As if doing my own job wasn’t enough, I also had to prepare all the international shipping schedules that she dumped on me because they "gave her a headache." ​I got up from my desk and walked quickly to her office. Emma was leaning against her desk, touching up her makeup with a pink-rhinestone-encrusted mirror. ​"Yes, Ms. Emma? You called for me?" I asked, standing at the doorway. ​Emma closed her mirror and turned to me. "Lyra, pack up. That’s enough for today, work is over. I want to go home, I’m exhausted," she said. ​I checked my watch. There were still forty minutes until the official end of the shift, but for Emma, "being tired" was the final whistle. "Of course, Ms. Emma. I’ll get ready right away," I replied. ​I grabbed my bag and pulled on my grey trench coat. Walking through the massive corridors of the Vance building, I looked at the giant "V" logos on the walls. This was Vance Corp. The most powerful logistics empire in America—maybe even the world. But we were at the very bottom of this empire. The 1st floor. The "entry level." ​We took the elevator down to the parking garage. The garage looked more like a luxury car showroom. Even the cheapest car there cost more than my annual salary. I turned to Emma and made the offer that had become our daily routine: ​"Ms. Emma, let me escort you to your car. I can help you find it." ​I wasn't saying this out of politeness. This woman forgot where her car was every single day. Every. Single. Day. Emma was about five-foot-three, pale-skinned, and very well-groomed. Her hair was naturally black, but she dyed it platinum blonde. she went to great lengths to make everyone think she was a natural blonde, but she had confessed the truth to me in a moment of weakness the other day. She was obsessed with pink. Everything from her jacket to her shoes was a shade of pink. Even her luxury sports car was bubblegum pink, yet she still couldn’t manage to find something that bright in a parking lot. ​Emma gave me a sharp look. "I can find my own car, Lyra Thorne! I’m not a child!" ​The moment she used my first and last name together, I knew she was annoyed. "Of course, as you wish. Have a good evening then," I said, stepping back. ​Emma marched off into the depths of the garage in her pink high heels. I stayed where I was, pulled out my phone, and started the stopwatch. I waited in silence, muttering to myself: ​"And... three, two, one... exactly three minutes." ​Right on cue, a scream echoed off the concrete walls of the garage: "Lyraaa! Where are you?" ​I smiled. I had been working at Vance Corp for a year, and I knew Emma by heart now. I walked toward the sound of her voice. I found her standing by a large pillar, scratching her head. When she saw me, her face crumpled as if she was about to cry. ​"Lyra... where is my car? Could someone have stolen it? Or did I park on a different floor? God, why is this place so big!" ​"Calm down, Ms. Emma, your car is in its usual spot," I said, leading her twenty meters away to the eye-catchingly bright pink luxury car. "Remember? You said this morning you wanted it 'close to the entrance'." ​"Oh, right! Yes!" she said, her mood shifting instantly to joy. Emma was actually from a wealthy family. Her parents had placed her here, at the very bottom, so she could "rise through her own merit." But Emma didn't care about rising. She spent her days on the phone gossiping with friends and dumped all her work on me. I was doing both her management tasks and my own assistant duties. ​Actually, Emma used to work on the 12th floor. Back then, I had just started and was in a different department. But one day, Emma caught a bad flu and didn't come to work for a week. In her absence, things on the 12th floor fell apart, and management demoted her to the 1st floor—the starting level—as a punishment. She had been incredibly tense ever since. Because that’s how the system worked at Vance Corp: if you’re successful, you rise; if you fail, you fall. At the very top, on the 100th floor, was the owner of this empire: Killian Vance. I had never seen him up close, only from a distance as he stepped into his famous glass elevator. ​Emma got into her car and rolled down the window. "I want those ship delivery reports on my desk tomorrow morning, Lyra. Don't forget!" she said, then hit the gas and sped away. Of course, she was the one who was supposed to prepare those reports. ​I walked out of the garage. The air outside was the typical grey, cold New York chill. The massive shadow of the Vance building loomed over the street. I looked up toward the very top. The lights on the 100th floor were on. Killian Vance was probably up there in his luxury office, ruling the world. ​Taking a deep breath, I walked to the city bus stop. I got my bus card ready. After a short wait, a crowded bus arrived. It was filled with exhausted people, everyone just wanting to get home after work. I took a seat by the window and leaned my head against the glass. ​As we passed the Vance Corp building, I looked at the giant logo at the entrance. The name "Vance" glowed in neon lights. This company wasn't just a workplace; it crossed oceans with ships, connected continents with planes, and traversed all of America with trucks. From coffee to technology, from cars to medicine—they moved everything. And here I was, at the very bottom of this massive system, finding forgotten pink cars and preparing reports for people who couldn't be bothered to do them. ​As the bus jolted forward, my eyes began to close from exhaustion. But only one thing was on my mind: I had to finish those reports by tomorrow morning. Because I didn't want to stay on the 1st floor. One day, I wanted that glass elevator to stop for me, too.