The elevator ride up to the twenty-seventh floor of the skyscraper felt impossibly long. Laura gripped the strap of her worn bag as if it could anchor her to reality. The lobby below was a blur of polished marble and glass walls reflecting the city's neon pulse. Her heart thudded in her chest, not because she was afraid of heights or the office's opulence, but because she was about to meet the man rumored to make women break before the month was out: Michael Gomez.
Every article she had read about the company's CEO had been the same: brilliant, ruthless, cold, and entirely untouchable. Social media was filled with whispers from former secretaries—most anonymous, some embittered. Cursed. Impossible. Gone in three weeks. The words ran like a mantra in her mind, but she couldn't let them decide her future. She had bills to pay, siblings to feed, and a fragile sense of hope that she had worked too hard to lose.
Her reflection in the elevator's mirrored wall stared back at her: dark eyes wide, hair neatly pinned back, a blouse that had seen better days, and a skirt modest enough not to draw attention but sharp enough to show she could take herself seriously. She wasn't here to impress anyone, not with charm or beauty. She was here to survive, to do a job, and to take care of the family waiting for her at home.
As the doors slid open onto the executive floor, a perfectly uniform silence greeted her. The air smelled faintly of leather and a chemical cleaning solution, the kind that smelled of authority. The receptionist, a sharp-faced woman with steel-rimmed glasses, didn't smile.
"Miss Lopas?" she asked without looking up from her tablet.
"Yes," Laura replied, trying to keep her voice calm.
"Mr. Gomez will see you now. Please follow me."
She rose and walked, her shoes clicking lightly against the marble floors. Her pulse threatened to betray her composure, but she kept it measured. Every step was a reminder: this was her chance, perhaps her only chance, to secure stability for Liam and Maya. The thought tightened her jaw. They depended on her. She couldn't fail—not for them.
The assistant led her down a corridor lined with glass offices, each one sterile and gleaming, reflecting an image of a world Laura had never inhabited. She tried not to flinch at the faint hum of security cameras or the almost imperceptible tension in the air. Every movement around her seemed choreographed, precise, and cold, like the building itself breathed control and discipline.
Finally, they arrived at a massive double door, polished to a mirror finish. The assistant paused, pressed a button on her tablet, and without another word, stepped back. Laura exhaled, steeling herself.
The door opened into a room dominated by a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. Neon lights flickered in the night, reflected across the polished surfaces of the office. Behind a massive mahogany desk sat a man. A man so impossibly composed that even the air around him seemed to hold its breath.
Michael Gomez.
He didn't rise. He didn't move. He didn't even glance at her for several seconds. Laura's stomach knotted under his gaze before he actually looked. When his dark eyes finally met hers, it felt like ice sliding over her spine. He was young, impossibly attractive in a way that demanded attention without effort. His sharp jawline and cold expression didn't soften with a smile because he never smiled—not yet.
"Sit," he said, his voice low, controlled, and precise, echoing faintly in the cavernous room.
Laura hesitated for half a heartbeat, then lowered herself into the chair across from him. She arranged her hands neatly on her lap, aware of the trembling she didn't allow herself to feel.
"I read your resume," he continued, voice flat, measured. "You've had multiple jobs, all short-term. Care to explain why?"
Laura swallowed and met his gaze, refusing to let her nervousness show. "I've worked wherever I could to support my siblings," she said evenly. "I prioritize stability for them. That's why I'm here today."
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. His eyes, sharp as obsidian, scanned her as if she were a puzzle he didn't want to solve but couldn't ignore.
"You've heard the rumors about this position?" he asked finally.
Laura had. She had read every article, every forum post, every whisper she could find. Former secretaries, anonymous and bitter, warning about impossible expectations, emotional strain, humiliation. Cursed, some had said.
"Yes," she admitted. "I've heard the position is… difficult. That the previous secretaries didn't last." She paused, steadying herself. "I'm aware. And I'm prepared to work hard. I don't intend to fail."
Michael's eyes narrowed, just slightly, though the hint of curiosity that flickered there almost went unnoticed. He didn't respond immediately. He just studied her. The silence stretched until the hum of the city outside became almost unbearable.
"Why should I hire you?" he asked finally.
Laura's lips pressed together, a small breath slipping through her teeth. She allowed herself a moment to imagine Liam counting the money she had scraped together that week, Maya curled up on the couch, sleeping despite the fever she sometimes battled. She owed them. Everything she did in this office had to be measured, precise, protective.
"I speak plainly," she said. "I don't avoid responsibility, and I don't quit under pressure. I'm here for more than myself, and I'll treat the work—and the office—with respect. I won't need supervision for every step. And I will not allow outside interference to affect my job."
Michael's lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost, but it never reached his eyes.
"Good," he said finally. "Because I have very little tolerance for mistakes, and even less for excuses."
Laura nodded, refusing to flinch at his intensity. She had flinched in the past—at bosses, at strangers, at authority figures—and it had never changed outcomes. Not for her. Not for her siblings.
They sat in silence for several more minutes, her heart pounding in her chest despite her attempt at composure. Michael studied her with the precision of a surgeon, and Laura felt as though every thought she tried to conceal was an open book. She hated that it mattered. She hated that she wanted this job but feared the man who controlled it.
Finally, he leaned back and spoke again. "You understand the hours, the demands, the… nature of this work. Can you commit?"
"I can," she said, firm, deliberate. "I will."
Michael gave a single nod, the barest hint of approval. "You start Monday. Be prepared to move quickly. I don't tolerate excuses, and I don't tolerate weakness."
Laura stood, her hands brushing against the sides of her bag. She bowed her head slightly, the most deferential gesture she allowed herself. "Thank you. I won't disappoint you."
He didn't respond. He simply returned to his paperwork, as if the entire conversation had been nothing more than a test of her composure. And maybe it had been.
The elevator ride down felt surreal. She pressed the button, her hands gripping the strap of her bag like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her mind reeled with what had just happened, the intensity of his gaze, the suffocating presence of power. She couldn't deny it—Michael Gomez was formidable, terrifying, and meticulous. And she had just volunteered to step into his world.
When she arrived home, Liam was pacing in the small apartment, a stack of school papers in his hand. Maya was curled on the couch, reading a book she had claimed she could finish before dinner.
"How was it?" Liam asked immediately.
Laura exhaled, forcing herself to smile. "I got it," she said simply.
"You got it?" Liam's eyes widened. "Are you sure? What about—"
"What about Michael Gomez?" Laura cut in gently, noticing the tension in his voice. "I know who he is. I know it's not going to be easy. But we don't get to choose easy. Only necessary. And this is necessary."
Maya peeked up over her book. "Is he scary?" she asked softly.
Laura smiled faintly. "He is," she admitted. "But scary doesn't mean he's bad. Not always. Sometimes scary just means strong."
Her siblings didn't argue. They never did when she spoke with this mix of authority and calm. Liam relaxed slightly, and Maya returned to her book, satisfied for the moment. Laura knew, though, that the real challenge wasn't convincing them. It was convincing herself.
Over the next few days before her start date, Laura found herself reflecting constantly on the encounter. She remembered every detail: the way Michael's gaze seemed to see past her defenses, the subtle way his presence dominated the office even when he wasn't speaking, the meticulousness with which he operated. Every rumor she had read about him felt validated. And yet… beneath the fear, there was fascination.
She had to remind herself repeatedly that fascination was dangerous. That her job was not about fascination. It was about survival, about keeping her siblings safe, about enduring whatever trials this position might throw at her. She would not allow herself to be intimidated, though she knew intimidation would be part of every day in that office.
She also knew one unshakable truth: she would protect her siblings, no matter what. If Michael Gomez threatened them—intentionally or not—she would stand in his path without hesitation. And if she survived this first day, and the days that followed, perhaps she would learn something about herself she didn't yet know.
Monday morning arrived before she felt ready. The city was wrapped in fog, the skyscrapers towering like silent judges. Laura clutched her bag and descended the streets, each step a calculated move toward the unknown. She had survived worse. She could survive this. She had to.
The glass doors opened, the lobby polished and silent, and for the first time, she noticed the weight of history in the building, the whispers of ambition, betrayal, and triumph that seemed to seep from the walls. She inhaled sharply.
Today, she would meet the man again—the man who commanded fear and respect in equal measure. The man whose reputation promised destruction.
And Laura Lopas, for the sake of Liam and Maya, would walk through the doors anyway.
Because some paths couldn't be avoided. And some battles, however terrifying, had to be faced.