The Art of Hating You

e large digital clock above the entrance. She was running perilously late, thanks to the unreliable

g for this interview for weeks, researching the company and practicing her responses to every possible quest

obby, her heels clicking on the polished marble floor. She made her way to th

he receptionist asked, eyeing

erself. "Hi, I'm Sara. I'm here for an inter

computer screen. "Ah, yes. You're runn

m so sorry. The bus was lat

worry, we've all been there. Let me just check

aited for the receptionist to confirm her appointment. A few minutes ticked by, and

ee you, but actually, the boss would like to meet w

ist. She had been preparing to meet with a team, not the boss he

g at the receptionist. "I'll

ge. "Just take the elevator to the 4th floor. The boss'

elevator. As she walked, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in her stomac

e doors slid open with a soft whoosh. Sara stepped inside and pressed t

ared for this interview, and she was ready to showcase her skills and experience. W

cor. She spotted a single door at the far end of the hall, adorned with a polished brass namepl

eyes fixed on the door handle. A deep, res

nside. But her smile faltered, and her eyes widened in shock as s

e her life miserable with his constant criticism and unrealistic expectations. The sa

th a kind face and a warm smile. The nameplate on the desk read "Nova Carter, CEO.". Sara's

ear. She felt like she had been punched in the gut, and she struggled to catch he

his chair, steepling his fingers together in a gesture of satisfaction. Nova,

at," Nova said, her voic

e it was slipping through her fingers. She knew she couldn't work with Franklin again, not after everything t

say, Sara, I was very impressed with your profile. You have a fant

surge of surprise. How could Nova possibly think she w

bombshell. "I'm also happy to see that you used to work

d to Franklin, her mind reeling with the