The Girl Who Humiliated Me, Now Works for Me

Chapter 6

TING!!!

The email arrived at 5:47 AM, jolting Clarissa from restless sleep. Her swollen eyes snapped open at the sender's name glowing on her phone screen: David William – CEO.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

To: Clarissa Maharani

From: David William

Subject: Project Assignment – Urgent

Ms. Clarissa,

Effective immediately, you are assigned to conduct comprehensive market analysis for our Q4 expansion project. Attached files contain financial data, competitor analysis requirements, and algorithmic projections that need to be processed into executive summary format. Deadline: 3 days from now, Monday 9 AM sharp.

Expectations: Professional-grade analysis with actionable insights and strategic recommendations. No room for mediocrity.

Regards,

David William

CEO, TechNova Corp

---

Cold sweat prickled her skin. "Three days?" she whispered to the empty room. "For all of this?"

Fifty pages of labyrinthine data sprawled across the attachments—spreadsheets dense with thousands of figures, Byzantine charts, and algorithmic projections whose very names were foreign to her.

She hauled herself from bed on unsteady legs, opening the files on her laptop with trembling fingers.

Q3-Q4 Financial Projections...

Southeast Asian Market Penetration Analysis...

Algorithmic Customer Behavior Prediction Models...

Competitive Landscape Mapping with 47 Variables...

Each file she opened sent another wave of nausea through her skull. This wasn't work for a new hire—this was senior analyst territory, the kind of project that demanded years of experience. Work meant for teams.

"Why would he give me this?" she murmured, rubbing her face with both hands. Her mind scrambled for explanations, finding only one that made terrible sense.

David's hatred felt so tangible, so arctic, that this had to be a trap.

But then something fiercer stirred within her—pride, stubborn and blazing. She wouldn't simply surrender, wouldn't gift David the satisfaction of watching her crumble. If this was his gauntlet, she'd meet it head-on.

"Fine, David," she breathed. "Let's see how far you're willing to push me."

Day One – Friday

Clarissa arrived at the office at 6:30 AM, an hour before the building came alive. The corridors lay empty, filled only with the mechanical hum of air conditioning.

She spent the day dissecting data structures, cataloging every variable, constructing the skeleton of her analysis. Her mind worked like a machine, breaking down complex information into digestible fragments.

"Clarissa?" Maya approached her desk, bewilderment written across her features. "You're here incredibly early today."

"Big project," Clarissa replied without lifting her eyes from the screen, her fingers dancing across the keyboard in steady rhythm.

Maya peered over her shoulder and frowned. "This is... the Q4 expansion project? Isn't this usually handled by Sandra's specialized team with David?"

"Mr. William assigned it to me."

"Alone?" Maya's voice cracked with disbelief. "Clarissa, this is typically a three-person, week-long project. How long did he give you?"

"Three days."

Maya fell silent, then sank into the chair beside Clarissa's desk, concern etched in every line of her face. "Doesn't this strike you as strange? New employees usually get orientation projects first—something manageable for adjustment. Why would he suddenly..."

"Because he wants to watch me fail," Clarissa cut her off.

"Fail? What do you mean?" Maya's confusion was genuine.

Clarissa hesitated. She couldn't explain to Maya the history that bound her to David, the vendetta now wrapped in professional obligation.

"It's nothing," she said finally, forcing a thin smile. "I'll handle it."

Maya shook her head, troubled. "You realize this project requires sophisticated analytics software, right? SPSS, Tableau, even some algorithmic modeling that—"

"I'll learn." Her determination was granite-hard.

"In three days?"

"In three days."

Maya studied her with an expression caught between admiration and worry. "Clarissa... don't destroy yourself over this. If it's genuinely too much, there's no shame in asking for help or a deadline extension."

"No." Clarissa's voice brooked no argument. "I won't ask for help."

Because she knew that asking for help meant admitting defeat. And David was surely waiting for that moment—when she'd walk into his office with defeat written on her face, begging for mercy. She would never give him that satisfaction.

Never.

Day Two – Saturday

Clarissa spent the weekend in the tomb-quiet office, accompanied only by the occasional security guard or cleaning crew. She anchored herself to her desk from 7 AM until well past midnight, sustained by nothing but vending machine snacks and the bitter fuel of determination. Her eyes grew puffy, her head buzzed with exhaustion.

Software she'd never touched became her mountain to climb. YouTube tutorials, online forums, desperate calls to college friends working in data analysis—she consumed everything, forcing her brain to absorb an ocean of information like a desperate sponge.

"Correlation coefficient for customer behavior prediction," she muttered, typing formulas she'd just learned. "Southeast Asian market penetration rates based on per capita GDP..."

Her eyes burned, her spine ached from hours hunched over her laptop, but she pressed forward. Each time despair crept close, she remembered David's ice-cold stare, the way he'd spoken her name like it tasted bitter, the way he'd treated her like a stranger unworthy of recognition.

At 11 PM, while wrestling with a particularly brutal modeling algorithm, her gaze drifted to the window. High above, David's office light still blazed.

So he was burning the midnight oil too?

For a moment, Clarissa imagined David behind his executive desk, perhaps wrestling with reports or business strategies. Did he ever think of her? Wonder if she'd manage to complete this impossible task?

Or had he already written her off as a failure? That certainty haunted her like a specter.

"We'll see about that," she murmured, turning back to her laptop with renewed fire in her veins.

Day Three – Sunday

The final night before her deadline. Clarissa hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her hair tied back in a chaotic knot, her clothes wrinkled from days without changing. The scent of burnt coffee and exhaustion clung to her like a second skin.

But her report was nearly complete.

Fifty pages of comprehensive analysis featuring twenty-three graphs, fifteen data tables, and seven strategic recommendations she'd assembled through sheer force of will. She'd even managed to craft an executive summary that was both concise and thorough.

"Final page," she whispered, typing her conclusion. Her hands trembled from fatigue and caffeine overdose, but she continued. Each keystroke was a small victory.

At 2:30 AM, she finally pressed 'save' for the last time. Fifty pages, complete. She read through the executive summary once more, hunting for typos or grammatical errors.

Then, holding her breath, she opened a new email.

---

To: David William

From: Clarissa Maharani

Subject: Project Analysis – Complete

Mr. William,

Please find attached the comprehensive market analysis for the Q4 expansion project as requested. The report includes financial projections, competitive landscape analysis, customer behavior predictions, and strategic recommendations for Southeast Asian market penetration.

I have completed all fifty pages of analysis within the given timeframe.

Respectfully,

Clarissa Maharani

---

Her finger trembled over the send button. This was the moment of truth. If her report was solid, perhaps David would acknowledge her capabilities. Perhaps he'd see that the old Clarissa was dead, and in her place stood a woman of steel. If not...

She refused to consider that possibility. Cold sweat traced down her spine.

Eyes closed, she pressed send.

Email sent: 2:47 AM.

Clarissa collapsed onto her desk, utterly depleted but proud. Her hands still shook, but a strange satisfaction bloomed in her chest. She'd done it. Against all odds, against time constraints and knowledge gaps, she'd completed a project meant for experienced teams.

"I did it," she whispered to the dark, silent office. "I'll never surrender to you."

Through the window, she noticed David's office had gone dark. Had been dark for hours, perhaps. Maybe he'd left long ago, while she fought her solitary battle.

Clarissa gathered her belongings with exhausted movements. Her bag felt impossibly heavy, her legs weak, but a thin smile played at her lips—the smile of a small victory earned through three days of brutal warfare.

But the greatest question still hung in the cold air: How would David react when he read her report in the morning?

Would he acknowledge her effort? Acknowledge her existence?

Or was this merely the opening gambit in a series of increasingly impossible tests? The gateway to a deeper circle of professional hell?

As the elevator carried her down, Clarissa felt pride and anxiety warring in her chest. She'd proven something—to herself, and hopefully to David.

But how far would David... William... continue to push her?

And most terrifying of all—how long could she endure before finally breaking? Before losing herself entirely?

The elevator doors opened, and Clarissa stepped out with determined stride. The cold scent of dawn greeted her.

The real battle had only just begun.