CHAPTER ONE: THE DREAM
Elena was running.
Her bare feet hit the cold floor as she rushed through a narrow corridor, the sound of her steps echoing sharply around her.
“Elena!”
She stopped.
At the far end of the hallway, her sister stood frozen in place, her face pale with fear.
“Help me,” her sister said.
Elena started forward again. “I’m coming!”
But the distance between them seemed to stretch, the hallway growing longer with every step she took.
Her sister turned and reached for a door at the end of the corridor—the basement door.
“Don’t!” Elena shouted.
The door swung open anyway.
Her sister disappeared inside.
“No!” Elena ran harder, reaching the door just as it slammed shut.
She grabbed the handle and pulled.
Locked.
She pulled again, harder this time.
Nothing.
“Elena!”
“I’m here!” she shouted back, yanking at the handle until her arms ached.
“Open!”
Silence.
Then—
“Elena…”
The lights above her flickered once.
Twice.
And then everything went black.
Elena woke up.
Her eyes snapped open as she sat upright in bed, breathing hard. For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, trying to steady herself.
Then she reached for her phone.
7:25 a.m.
Her expression shifted instantly.
“Damn.”
She was out of bed in seconds.
Her interview was at 8:30.
Not just any interview—a promotion interview.
She had worked at Med Houston Institute long enough to understand exactly what was at stake.
Research Group Leader.
And she wanted it.
Elena moved quickly.
The shower was brief, efficient. By the time she stepped out, her hair was already dried and pulled neatly back.
She opened her wardrobe.
A dark-blue straight skirt came first—professional, below the knee. Then a sky-blue shirt, pressed the night before.
She dressed quickly, buttoning the shirt as she moved, then paused in front of the mirror.
Simple.
Sharp.
Ready.
She picked up her handbag. Her interview folder was already inside. She checked it once.
Everything was there.
She closed it.
7:52 a.m.
Elena slipped on her shoes.
By 8:00, she was ready.
Her phone buzzed.
Daniel.
Her usual driver.
She opened the message.
Daniel: Good morning, ma'am. I'm still on my break today. I won't be able to drive you.
Elena glanced at the time. She replied, "it's fine".
She opened a ride-hailing app instead and booked the nearest available car.
Arriving in five minutes.
She picked up her keys and waited by the door.
At 8:15 a.m., she stepped outside and locked the house behind her.
The car arrived shortly after.
She opened the back door.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning,” the driver replied.
“Med Houston Institute, please.”
The car pulled away.
Elena checked her watch.
8:17 a.m.
Thirteen minutes.
Her eyes shifted to the road ahead. Traffic was already building.
The driver glanced forward. “There’s quite a bit of traffic this morning.”
“Take the fastest route,” she said.
“I will.”
She leaned back in her seat. Her interview folder remained closed on her lap. She didn’t need to review it. She knew her work. She knew her research. She knew exactly what she had accomplished.
There was nothing left to prepare.
She watched the traffic crawl forward.
8:23 a.m.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her phone.
A few minutes later, the car barely moved.
8:27 a.m.
Then—
8:30 a.m.
Elena looked at her watch.
Her interview had already started without her.
She exhaled slowly.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry. The traffic—”
“Keep driving,” she said.
Her voice was steady. Controlled.
No anger. No panic.
Just instruction.
At 8:37 a.m., the traffic finally began to ease.
The institute came into view.
Elena sat up straighter as the familiar glass building rose ahead, reflecting the morning sun.
She checked her reflection in the mirror. Nothing was out of place. She adjusted her sleeve, picked up her handbag, and waited.
The car stopped at the entrance at 8:43 a.m.
Elena paid the fare and stepped out.
She looked up at the building.
8:30 had come and gone.
She was thirteen minutes late.
Unacceptable.
But standing there wouldn’t change anything.
She walked inside.
The receptionist looked up. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. I’m here for the Research Group Leader interview.”
The receptionist checked her computer. Her expression shifted slightly.
“Ms. Elena?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Peter is already with the other candidates.”
“I know,” Elena said quietly.
The receptionist hesitated, then pointed toward the elevators. “Fifteenth floor. The Director General’s office.”
“Thank you.”
Elena walked away.
Her heels clicked against the polished floor.
She entered the elevator and pressed 15.
The doors closed.
For the first time that morning, she allowed herself a slow breath.
Not because she was nervous.
Because she was late.
And Elena hated being late.
The elevator rose.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5......
The doors opened.
She stepped out into a quiet corridor. A secretary sat at the desk outside the Director General’s office.
The woman looked up. “Yes?”
“I’m Elena. I’m here for the interview.”
The secretary checked the list.
Her eyes lifted. “You’re late.”
Elena met her gaze.
“Yes.”
No explanation. No excuse.
The secretary studied her for a moment, then picked up the phone.
“Sir, Ms. Elena is here.”
A pause.
“Yes, sir.”
She hung up.
“Mr. Peter will see you now.”
Elena nodded, adjusting her grip on her handbag.
Then she walked toward the office door.
Her lateness had already made an impression.
Now she had to make sure it wasn’t the only one.
