ASTRID
I stride into AXT office building with my head held high, clutching the goodwill package tightly in one hand.
The nerves that had been bubbling inside me ever since Mr. Pete’s little "you-need-to-apologize" speech is still there, but I’m determined to do my job right.
I remind myself that I’m not just some intern. They trust me with AXT' account for a reason. I earned this responsibility.
I make my way straight to the receptionist desk, glancing briefly at the immaculate décor high ceilings, polished floors, and an expensive piece of abstract art mounted on the wall behind the counter.
The whole place screams power and exclusivity. I love it.
The receptionist, a young woman with sharp, perfectly sculpted eyebrows and a disinterested expression, is typing something into her
