When Fire Meets Fortune

Chapter3

The email arrived at 6:42 a.m.

> Subject: Employment Offer – Stravons Empire

From: HR@stravonsempire.com

Dear Maya Cole,

We are pleased to inform you…

I didn’t read the rest before I screamed.

Leah shot up from her mattress like she’d been tasered. “What?! What? Are we dying?”

“I got the job!”

She blinked at me, her hair tangled around her head. “What job?”

“The Stravons job. The interview? Yesterday?”

“Oh my God.” "She raced across the room and nearly knocked me over with a hug." “YES! YES! We’re rich!”

“Not yet,” I laughed, heart racing. “But we might make rent!”

She pulled back. “What’s the pay?”

“Entry-level trash. But still five times what I was making freelancing.”

She held my face in both hands. “Maya Cole. Corporate baddie.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. I’ll be lucky if I don’t spill coffee on someone by noon.”

9:00 a.m. at Stravons Empire – 57th Floor

“First day?” The receptionist asked as I stepped off the elevator.

I nodded.

She handed me a company badge and a tablet. “HR orientation is in Room 7A. Left, then straight.”

The hallways sparkled. Even the air smelled expensive. Like citrus and power.

I walked with quiet steps, gripping the tablet like it was a lifeline.

Inside Room 7A, three other new hires sat, already flipping through onboarding documents. All of them wore blazers. I had on my best cardigan.

A woman with a clipboard entered, introduced herself as Cara from HR, and started the presentation. She ran through company policy like she’d memorized it in her sleep.

“Stravons Empire is a high-performance, zero-tolerance environment. That means no lateness, no excuses, and no failures.”

No pressure.

After signing three digital contracts, setting up emails, and being fingerprinted for the building’s biometric system, I was finally escorted to my workstation.

Not an office. Not even a cubicle.

A standing desk in the open floor, near the executive suite. Like a receptionist no one would ever say hello to.

“This will be your station,” Cara said, tapping a finger on the desk. “You’re supporting the executive assistant to Mr. Stravon. Her name is Ms. Carter. She’ll be your supervisor.”

“Got it.”

“She’s very particular.”

Of course she is.

Cara looked me up and down, as if trying to guess how long I’d last. “Good luck.”

My New Boss Ms. Carter arrived like a storm in a pantsuit. Blond hair in a bun so tight it looked painful. Clipboard in one hand, black coffee in the other.

“You must be Maya.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Lose the ma’am. Makes me feel old.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t smile.

“You’re not here to be liked,” she said, eyes scanning my outfit. “You’re here to make my life easier. Emails, printouts, deliveries, reminders. You do what I say, when I say, how I say. Any issues?”

“No.”

“Good. Let’s start with Mr. Stravon’s schedule.”

She handed me a printout and kept walking, expecting me to follow.

I did.

My shoes squeaked. Hers didn’t.

When we entered Lucas’s office, he was already inside.

Standing by the window, back to us, looking out at the skyline like it owed him something. He didn’t turn around.

“Sir,” Ms. Carter said, the tone was sharp but respectful. “This is Maya Cole, the new junior assistant.”

Nothing. Not even a nod. I waited. Still nothing.

Ms. Carter handed me a folder. “Set the documents on his desk and step out quietly.”

I walked across the carpeted floor like I was in church.

He still didn’t look at me.

Not a word. Not a glance. Not even an acknowledgement.

I placed the folder neatly on his sleek black desk and left.

“You’re lucky,” said a girl next to me, pouring coffee into a mug with chipped nail polish. “I’ve worked here six months and haven’t even seen Mr. Stravon’s face.”

“I saw his back.”

She laughed. “That’s something. He only speaks when necessary. And even then, it’s not warm.”

“What’s he like?” I asked.

“Cold. Sharp. Brilliant. Rumor is, he once fired a guy for printing single-sided instead of double.”

“Seriously?”

She shrugged. “He expects perfection.”

I sipped the lukewarm coffee and texted Eli.

> Maya: Got the job!

Eli: NO WAY. I knew it. Big sis moves!

Maya: One day at a time. But hey, we might actually have a rent plan.

Ms. Carter had me flagging emails, booking reservations, ordering vegan snacks, scheduling meetings, re-ordering stationery, and printing out reports that had to be re-done exactly right.

I accidentally used the wrong font once.

She didn’t yell. She just took the paper, gave me a three-second glare, and said, “Try again.”

It somehow hurt more than shouting.

Most employees had left.

I was still organizing files on the cloud when Ms. Carter walked by.

“You can go. But be here by 8:30 tomorrow.”

“I will.”

She paused. “You didn’t screw anything up today. Keep it that way.”

I took that as a compliment.

As I walked toward the elevator, I glanced toward the glass office.

Lucas Stravon was still inside.

Still standing.

Still staring out the window.

It was like he never left.

“I made noodles!” Leah said, waving a pot in the air. “Dinner for queens on a peasant budget.”

I sank into the couch and kicked off my shoes. “I saw the CEO today. Kind of.”

“Does he sparkle?”

“No. He’s made of ice and silence.”

Leah passed me a bowl. “So… you survived so far?”

“I’m not fired yet.”

“That’s the spirit.”

I smiled, but I was tired. Deep-tired. Like my bones had absorbed the stress of a building.

Still. I was in. For now.

“You’re quiet,” Leah said.

I sat cross-legged on the floor beside her, the warm bowl balanced in my lap, untouched. “Just… tired. It doesn’t even feel like I worked. It feels like I survived something.”

“That place really that bad?”

“No, not bad. Just… big. And cold. I felt invisible all day.”

“Except to the girl who told you the CEO is made of ice.”

I managed a laugh, but it faded quickly.

Leah looked at me. “Maya… you know you don’t have to carry all this alone, right?”

I didn’t answer. The noodles were getting cold, but I forced myself to eat anyway.

She bumped me with her foot. “Did you at least get a lunch break?”

I scoffed. “If you count ten minutes of silence and vending machine coffee.”

“Corporate life, baby.”

I nodded toward the calendar taped to our peeling kitchen wall. “Rent’s due in two weeks. I don’t even know if this paycheck’s coming in time.”

She sighed. “We’ll figure it out.”

I wanted to believe that. But everything about today had felt like a reminder: in this city, you’re only as safe as your paycheck — and I was still two weeks away from One

My phone buzzed as I washed the dishes. It was Eli, my little brother.

“Hey, Big Sis!”

His voice was a burst of sunshine through the static.

“Hey, champ. Homework done?”

“Done and dusted. Leah said you got the job!”

“She’s right. First day today.”

“Was it fun?”

I laughed bitterly. “Not even a little.”

“Oh…”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… exhausting.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

I leaned against the counter, listening to his soft breathing on the other end. My baby brother — eleven years old, too smart for his age, and already way too good at pretending not to worry about me.

“Did you eat?” I asked.

“Yeah. Aunty Vee made jollof.”

“Good. Save me some next time.”

“You gonna be okay?”

That stopped me cold.

I swallowed. “Yeah. I have to be.”

“Love you.”

“I love you more.”

He hung up before I could say anything else.

It was 10.00.p.m. Leah was asleep, snoring softly beside me on the mattress we shared.

I stared at the ceiling. The fan creaked overhead like it was complaining about its own life.

I replayed the day over and over — Mr. Stravon’s silence, Ms. Carter’s cold instruction, the robotic pace of everything.

No one asked my name. No one asked how I was settling in. No one asked anything.

I was just another pair of hands. Another girl at a desk.

I rolled onto my side and whispered into the dark.

“I have to make this work.”

The next day I walked in early. Early enough that even the coffee shop downstairs hadn’t opened yet.

Security buzzed me in with a nod. This time, the elevator didn’t glitch. The silence on the ride up was louder than any music.

As I stepped out onto the 57th floor, I found Ms. Carter already at her desk, typing furiously.

She looked up. “Good. You're not late.”

I nodded, setting my bag down by my tiny desk.

She tossed a stack of paper in my direction. “Copy these. Double-sided. Don’t mess it up.”

“No problem.”

Before I reached the copy room, she called after me. “And don’t speak to Mr. Stravon unless spoken to.”

My chest tightened. “I wasn’t planning to.”

She gave a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Smart girl.”

I returned from my errand to find the glass doors to Lucas Stravon’s office open — rare.

Inside, he was in a meeting with two older executives. He stood, arms folded, while they explained something with charts and numbers.

“No,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a razor. “That’s not what I asked for.”

The man stammered. “W-We thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

The woman stepped in. “Lucas—”

“Try again. Close the door on your way out.”

They walked past me, flushed and silent.

I wasn’t supposed to be listening, but I couldn’t look away.

Lucas turned slowly, and for the first time, his eyes locked onto mine.

Sharp. Cold. Calculating.

I froze.

He said nothing. Just watched me until I remembered how to move.

I ducked my head and walked fast back to my desk.

I heard the glass door slide shut behind me.

“I swear,” the chipped-nail girl from yesterday whispered, “every day in this place takes a year off my life.”

We sat on a bench outside the building, barely escaping the company’s shadow.

“Is it always this intense?” I asked.

She nodded, sipping a Red Bull. “People either adapt or disappear.”

“How long have you lasted?”

“Three months. But I’m renting a studio in Queens now, so… worth it.”

She looked at me. “You’re Maya, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Eliza. Marketing.”

We shook hands.

She leaned in. “You’re working under Carter, right?”

I nodded.

“Careful. She chews up interns like gum.”

“Good to know.”

“And if you ever make a mistake that reaches Lucas? Pray.”

Ms. Carter sent me to deliver documents to the executive printer. I did. But I missed the last sheet on her desk — the one labeled “CONFIDENTIAL: Q3 Termination Memo”.

It didn’t make the packet.

She noticed ten minutes later.

“Where’s page seven?” she asked sharply.

I froze.

“I— I think— I’ll go check the—”

“It’s still on my desk,” she said, holding it up. “You forgot it.”

I opened my mouth, closed it.

She stepped closer. “You’ve had one job today. Just one. Do you know what would’ve happened if that landed on Mr. Stravon’s desk incomplete?”

I didn’t answer.

“Next time, you’ll be gone.” I nodded stiffly.

“Good. Now fix it.”

I got back home.

“I hate her,” I muttered.

Leah passed me a glass of Sprite. “You and every other assistant in Manhattan.”

“I made one mistake. One.”

Leah didn’t say anything. She knew me too well. Knew that behind the anger was the fear — of failure, of being kicked out, of everything crashing before it began.

I looked at our couch, its sagging cushion. The blinking lightbulb. The unpaid electricity notice on the counter.

I didn’t have time to hate anyone.

I needed this job.

Even if it swallowed me whole.