Silent Calm: Sterling's Obsession

t some sad, limp thing from the bargain bin; it screamed, "Try me, I dare you." The night before, she'd gone full drill sergeant: outfits lined up like a military parade, shoes so

y embarrassing failure still

stential dread. The receptionist looked like she'd been 3D-printed by Vogue: bun so tight it could slice glass, smile set to "default corporate," and eyes that said, "Try me, rookie." With a flick, Elara got shuffled into th

d a direct line to NASA-or at least HR. Elara plopped down, heart pounding out a salsa rhythm. Half

on repeat in her head. Heavy on t

sheets and passive-aggressive emails. The boss, Damien Sterling? Basically Bigfoot in a suit. Sometimes she'd catch a blur or hear a voice sharp enough to shave w

f whack-a-mole, each more cryptic than the last. Files stacked so neatly you'd think the Pope was coming for a surprise inspection. She was

w? Still n

ntangle the chaos (which, shocker, nobody read). Next morning she was there before sunrise, desk looking like some kind of minimalist Inst

rted charging her rent. She lived in constant fear of screwing up. Two minute

lf she was more than the mess-ups trailing behind her. But the grind wore her down. That inner cr

weeze out. He'd stroll in-well, "stroll" is generous-more like he cut through the office air with those glacier-blue eyes and that voice. Deep, gravelly, like Hollywood

his daily habits in her head. She caught the way he ran a tight ship-perfectionist to the point you'd think he ironed his shoelaces. If yo

No smiles, not even a sympathy smirk for the poor interns. The man's face was set in stone. If misery had a poster boy, it was Damien Sterling. S

me mat in this office, and no way was she risking her neck poking around in the boss'

ruts Isabella Rossi. You ever seen a power suit in motion? That was her-red jacket, hair pulled so tight it probably had its

ce. "Mr. Sterling," she purred, all vel

"Isabella," he said, voice so flat you cou

as in on some inside joke. "Pleasure?

ara knew, whatever this was, she'd need popcorn and a pay raise to get the full scoop. But she kept her

Oh, she was pure velvet-wrapped menace, smiling like your best friend while mentally measuring you for a body bag. Every syllable dripping with "try me, I dare you." Damien?

u could practically taste the threats flying around, like static in the air. Was this supposed to be a business meeting? Plea

cking in air like she's just surfaced from a shark tank. Isabella Rossi? That woman doesn't just enter a room, she haunts it. Elara's head is spinning,

Elara can feel it-layers on layers, secrets for days.

e) and stumbles onto this sketchy hallway that's basically giving off "do not enter" en

a horror movie invitation. Her common sense is screa

in the middle of nowhere. She flicks on the light and-yep, there it is. Ancient manila folder, looks like it's been through a wa

ongs in a spy movie? She's got a million questions, zero answers. Doesn't even get to crack it

t oozing "boss level." Face gives away nothin

ow it's basically a threat

ws feel alive, her heart's trying to punch its way out

s on the radar. Answers? Disappearing act? Hell if she know