Chapter 4
1398 Words
Mistakes have a sound.
This one sounded like a ping — the soft notification chime that echoed from Ms. Carter’s desk exactly thirty-seven minutes after I returned from lunch.
Her fingers froze on her keyboard.
My heart skipped.
She stood slowly, walked over to me, and placed a single sheet of paper on my desk.
“You attached the wrong PDF to Mr. Stravon’s afternoon briefing.”
The words dropped like cold water.
I blinked at the paper — a calendar I’d compiled for another department. “I—I checked it three times.”
“Well, check four next time,” she said, voice tight. “Because this is unacceptable.”
My mouth opened, then closed.
“I’ll handle it,” she snapped before I could apologize. “For now.” And then she was gone.
She came back ten minutes later. Expression unreadable.
“Mr. Stravon wants to see you.”
Everything in me stilled. “Me?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t say anything else. Just turned and walked back toward the executive office, heels clicking sharply across the floor like a countdown.
I followed, each step a thousand pounds.
The glass doors hissed as they opened.
Lucas sat at his desk, a sleek black surface with nothing out of place — no clutter, no warmth, no life.
Just him.
He didn’t look up as I entered.
“Stand there,” he said, voice low but sharp.
I did.
He was scrolling through his laptop, motionless for a beat. Then he turned the screen toward me.
“This,” he said, “is the briefing document you sent.”
I saw it immediately. The wrong attachment. The calendar from Facilities, highlighted notes and all.
“I’m sorry—”
“I don’t want apologies,” he said, cutting me off.
His eyes met mine.
Cold. Deliberate. Detached.
“What I want,” he continued, “is competence.”
“I understand—”
“No, you don’t. Because if you did, we wouldn’t be here.”
The silence felt like drowning.
“You’ve been here three days. That’s long enough to know the standards we operate under.”
“I know—”
“You don’t.”
He stood slowly and walked around the desk.
I resisted the urge to step back.
“Do you think you’re irreplaceable?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good. Because you’re not.”
He picked up the incorrect document and dropped it into the shredder beside his desk. The quiet hiss of the blades felt like judgment.
“I don’t care where you went to school, or what your story is. You’re here now. That means results.”
I nodded, cheeks burning.
“Next time you waste my time, you won’t get another conversation.”
He turned away, dismissing me.
Just like that.
I walked out on legs that barely held me.
I didn’t cry in front of him.
Didn’t let my voice c***k.
But the moment I made it to the emergency stairwell two floors down, I sank onto the metal steps and let the tears fall.
Quick. Quiet. Like guilt trying to sneak out. The worst part wasn’t the mistake. It was the way he said it like I didn’t exist.
Like I wasn’t even a human being, just a line item on a spreadsheet.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen, unsure who I even wanted to text.
Leah would try to make me laugh.
Eli would try to make me strong.
Neither of those things felt possible right now.
The day dragged on. Ms. Carter barely spoke to me.
When I handed her corrected reports, she didn’t even look up. Just took them and kept typing.
I kept my head down, did everything asked, didn’t speak unless spoken to.
I watched the other interns rushing around, assistants keeping their heads low, a guy two desks away getting a quiet lecture that turned into a firing ten minutes later.
It felt like walking on glass, every step dangerous, every breath too loud.
By the time 5:30 hit, my body felt like it had been through war.
And for what?
A desk no one wanted to sit at.
A job that could be ripped away over one mistake.
I shoved my laptop into its bag and pulled on my coat.
I got to the apartment .
“You look like you got hit by a truck,” Leah said.
“Thanks.”
She moved aside, letting me collapse on the couch.
“What happened?”
“Made a mistake. Got called into the dragon’s den.”
“Lucas?”
“Lucas.”
“What did he say?”
I stared at the ceiling.
“That I’m replaceable.”
Leah walked to the fridge, pulled out the last yogurt, and handed it to me.
I took it, even though I wasn’t hungry.
“He’s not wrong,” I said after a beat.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. They can get someone with better clothes and more experience in five minutes.”
“Maybe. But they don’t have you.”
“That’s not a selling point, Leah. That’s a liability.”
She sat down next to me. “You want me to make a list of all the ways you’re actually incredible? Because I can start right now.”
I shook my head. “I just… I feel like I’m constantly one breath away from failing everything. The job. Rent. Eli. Life.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Welcome to being twenty-something in New York.”
Phone Buzzed
> Eli: You okay?
Maya: Rough day. But I’m surviving.
Eli: You’re a boss. They just don’t know it yet.
Maya: Thanks, champ.
Eli: I’m proud of you.
I stared at those words for a long time.
Proud.
I didn’t feel worthy of that word.
But maybe… one day.
Maybe I’d prove him right.
The next day I was late.
Like heart-pounding, clock-staring, racing-in-flats late.
The subway stopped three stops from Midtown. Then some guy spilled a protein shake all over the exit door. By the time I made it onto the street, the crosswalk light had turned red and I could practically hear Ms. Carter sharpening her claws from the 57th floor.
I didn’t stop for coffee, but I grabbed the backup from my tote — yesterday’s leftover sealed in a cheap flask. Cold caffeine was still caffeine.
I flew through the revolving doors of Stravons Empire, badge out, breath short, praying security wouldn’t stop me.
“Good morni—” the guard tried.
“Sorry! Super late!” I called, already halfway to the elevators.
Elevator closed.
I swore under my breath and turned toward the stairwell.
Eight floors. In cheap shoes. With lukewarm coffee.
My legs screamed by the third flight. I kept climbing, heart hitting my ribs like it was trying to escape.
Fifth floor. Sixth. Seventh—
I burst through the stairwell door onto the 8th floor, about to swing into the executive hallway—
And slammed full speed into someone.
My flask exploded.
A splash of cold brown soaked his white shirt and dark blazer.
I froze, breath shaky, heart stopping mid-beat.
Lucas Stravon.
Tall. Furious. Staring down at the mess spreading across his crisp collar like a bruise.
For one horrifying second, the world went silent.
Then—
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled.
“I—I’m so sorry—”
“Do you run through buildings now?”
“I didn’t see— I was late, I—”
“You think being late excuses spilling coffee into your boss?”
“No, I just—”
“Do you even think before moving, or is chaos your default setting?”
The hallway had gone silent. Assistants. Interns. Even Ms. Carter, appearing at the end of the corridor like she’d smelled drama from floors away.
Lucas shook his head, glaring at the stain on his shirt like it personally insulted his bloodline.
“I want you out of my sight now,” he snapped.
“Sir, I—”
“Not. Another. Word.”
He turned without another glance, his drenched shirt hanging on his back.
I stood there, frozen, still holding the now-empty flask.
And then I turned and walked away before anyone saw the tears.
- Writer
