Ayla
A week later, I stood in front of a minimalist office building in the business district. The firm was called Lighter Crown. Nobody here knew me as Ayla Corsetti — the perfect daughter.
But whatever hope I had of finding peace disappeared on day one. This internship was a cruel kind of silence. I barely had anyone to talk to. Just a desk in the corner, piles of data to curate, and my own thoughts for company.
“Matt recommended you to me, so I want to see the potential he talked about. I don’t care about background, status, or if you could personally spin the earth backward. You understand me, Miss Corsetti?”
Angela’s voice filled the glass-walled room. I glanced outside where the employees were openly watching us.
“Yes, Ms. Di Camillo. I understand.”
I left her office holding ont
