Amelia’s POV
The email arrives at 9:47 AM on a Wednesday.
Ms. Hart, please report to Mr. James Hartwell’s office at your earliest convenience.
I stare at the words, coffee going cold in my hand. In corporate speak, “earliest convenience” means immediately, and a summons to the executive floor is never good news.
“Everything okay?” Sarah, my colleague asks, passing my cubicle.
“Fine.” The lie comes automatically. “Just need to run upstairs for a minute.”
The elevator ride to the executive floor feels like ascending to an execution. I smooth my skirt, check my reflection in the polished doors. It’s been a few weeks of keeping my head down, doing my work, rebuilding something that resembles a career in this company.
James Hartwell sits behind his desk.
“Amelia. Sit.”
I sit. Notice i
