Jay's first official day started at exactly 6:45 AM.
She arrived early.
Very early.
She didn't want to risk being "forty seconds late" again.
The top floor was quiet when she stepped out of the elevator. Her heels felt too loud against the marble floor. She adjusted her glasses slightly and walked toward her new desk outside the CEO's office.
Her hands were still cold.
At exactly 7:00 AM, the office doors opened.
Mark Keifer Watson walked in without sparing her a glance.
"Coffee. Black. No sugar. No mistakes," he said while walking past her.
No good morning.
Jay quickly stood up. "Y-Yes, sir."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she prepared his coffee in the executive pantry. Don't spill. Don't shake. Don't mess up.
She entered his office carefully and placed the cup on his desk.
He took a sip.
Silence.
Jay held her breath.
"It's acceptable," he said flatly.
She didn't know whether that was a compliment or an insult.
The day moved fast. Files. Calls. Meetings. Emails. Jay worked nonstop, writing everything down carefully, double-checking every detail. She barely had time to breathe.
By 6 PM, most employees had left.
Jay quietly gathered her things.
"Where are you going?" His voice stopped her.
She turned slowly. "It's… 6 PM, sir."
"And?"
Her stomach tightened. "Is there something else you need?"
He looked at the clock casually. "You'll stay. There are reports that need organizing."
She glanced at the thick pile of files on his desk.
That would take hours.
"Yes, sir."
The building grew quieter as the sky darkened outside the glass windows. The city lights began to glow below them. Jay's eyes were starting to ache, but she kept typing, sorting, arranging.
At 9:17 PM, it happened.
She mixed two important files in the wrong order.
It was small.
But not small enough.
Keifer noticed immediately.
"What is this?" His voice was calm — too calm.
Jay froze. "I—I thought—"
"You thought?" He stood up slowly.
Her heartbeat quickened.
"These are confidential documents. You do not think. You follow instructions."
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll fix it right away."
His jaw tightened. "Sorry doesn't fix incompetence."
The word hit harder than she expected.
Incompetent.
Jay blinked quickly, forcing her eyes not to water. She wouldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
"I said I'll fix it," she replied softly, but there was a slight edge in her tone — frustration mixed with embarrassment.
He stepped closer.
She instinctively stepped back.
For a moment, the tension between them felt sharp enough to cut.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
She hated that he noticed.
"I'm not," she whispered.
He looked at her properly then.
Not as an employee.
Not as a file.
But as a person.
Her hands were trembling. Her lips pressed tightly together. She was trying so hard not to break.
And something unfamiliar flickered in his chest.
Annoyance?
No.
Something else.
He stepped back.
"Fix it," he said, voice colder again. "And don't repeat the mistake."
"Yes, sir."
He returned to his desk.
But he didn't focus on his laptop.
His mind lingered on the way her eyes had almost filled with tears.
Why did that bother him?
Jay quietly corrected the files, refusing to look at him again.
At 10:03 PM, she finally finished.
"I'm done, sir."
He checked the documents.
Perfect.
"You can leave."
She nodded and walked out without another word.
No smile.
No softness.
Just exhaustion.
The elevator doors closed.
Inside the office, Keifer stared at the empty doorway.
She didn't argue.
She didn't cry.
She didn't quit.
Most would have.
He leaned back in his chair slowly.
"She won't last," he muttered to himself.
But for the first time in years…
He wasn't completely sure.