Zoe Bennett clutched her folder tightly as she weaved through the morning rush on Fifth Avenue, her heels clicking anxiously against the pavement. The Manhattan air was brisk, filled with the sounds of honking cabs, hurried footsteps, and the hiss of steam rising from sidewalk grates. This was it. Her first real shot at a job since graduating from college last month. Carrington Corp. wasn’t just any company, it was one of the most powerful firms in the country. Getting in would change everything. “I just need one yes,” she whispered under her breath. “Just one.” She was halfway through the crosswalk when the light changed. A luxury black Maserati roared around the corner too fast. Before she could react, a tidal wave of gutter water splashed across her blouse, coat, and worse, her neatly printed résumé. Zoe froze, drenched and livid. The car jerked to a stop. The driver’s door swung open, and out stepped a man in a dark, custom-fitted suit that screamed expensive. He was tall, immaculately groomed, and devastatingly handsome in a cold, detached sort of way. His steel-gray eyes scanned her from head to toe, stopping on the mess he’d made. “You alright?” he asked, tone clipped and entirely unapologetic. Zoe blinked. “You soaked me! And my résumé! Do I look alright to you?” His brows twitched, just barely. “It’s Manhattan. People should know better than to cross mid-change.” Her mouth dropped open. “Are you seriously blaming me?” “I’m simply pointing out the facts.” She stepped toward him, fury rising. “Well, here’s a fact: you drive like an arrogant jerk, and you owe me a dry shirt and a fresh set of documents.” He gave a dry, amused exhale. “Noted. Anything else?” Zoe scowled. “No. And I sincerely hope I never see your smug face again.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly unaffected. “The feeling’s mutual.” With that, he slid back into the driver’s seat and drove off, leaving her standing in the middle of the sidewalk wet, furious, and dangerously close to tears. Forty-five minutes later… Zoe sat in the marble lobby of Carrington Corp., hugging her coat tightly around her ruined blouse. The receptionist, a polite man with kind eyes and a name tag that read Kelvin, offered her a small smile. “Someone will be with you shortly,” he said. “First interview of the day. You’re early.” “Yeah,” she muttered, “just my luck.” She tried not to focus on how sticky her clothes felt or how wrinkled her once-pristine papers were. All she had to do was survive this interview. Keep her cool. Prove herself. The sound of the elevator dinging snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up. And her heart stopped. There he was. The same man from earlier. Same cold eyes. Same arrogant walk. But this time, surrounded by assistants and people whispering his name with reverence. “Mr. Carrington.” Zoe’s stomach dropped. Mr. Carrington?! No. No, no, no…this had to be a nightmare. Their eyes met. Recognition flickered in his expression, followed by something dangerously close to amusement. “Well, well,” he said, walking straight toward her. “You clean up well. Relatively.” Zoe stood up slowly. “You… you’re the CEO?” “I am.” She tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat. He turned to Kelvin without looking away from her. “Send her to my office. I’ll handle the interview personally.” Kelvin blinked in surprise. “Of course, sir.” Zoe’s pulse thundered in her ears. Oh God… I’m doomed.
Zoe followed behind Mr. Kelvin in stiff silence as they ascended the elevator to the top floor of Carrington Corp. Her mind raced, equal parts panic and fury. Of all the companies in New York… Of all the buildings… Why did I have to argue with the CEO himself? The elevator doors slid open into a sleek, expansive office suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in morning light. The skyline stretched endlessly behind Damian Carrington, who stood with his back to her, sipping from a black ceramic mug like he didn’t just flip her entire morning upside down. “Go ahead,” Kelvin whispered. “He’s expecting you.” Zoe took a breath and stepped inside. Damian turned slowly, as if savoring the moment. “Miss Bennett. Please, sit.” His voice was cool, unhurried. A man in control of everything, especially people like her. She sat, clutching her resume folder like a shield. “Thank you for… seeing me.” “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He set down his mug and folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the edge of his desk. “So, let’s begin. Tell me, what makes you think you’re qualified to work at Carrington Corp?” Zoe cleared her throat, trying to ignore the dried coffee stain on her collar. “I graduated from NYU with a degree in communications. I interned at two media firms, helped lead campus campaigns, and…” “Excellent,” he cut in. “And what about your people skills? How do you handle difficult personalities?” Was that sarcasm in his voice? Zoe’s jaw clenched. “I try to stay professional and address conflict respectfully. Even when others don’t.” He smirked. “That’s mature of you.” The silence stretched for a moment, thick with unspoken challenge. He was enjoying this. Toying with her. She knew it and she hated how smug he looked. “Tell me,” he said, circling the desk and sitting across from her, “what would you do if your boss gave you tasks that seemed… impossible?” Zoe stared at him. “I’d figure out a way to get it done.” “Even if he was rude? Dismissive? Demanding?” “Yes.” Her voice was sharper now. “Because that’s part of the job. And I don’t scare easily.” A flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression. Interest? Respect? Annoyance? He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “You’re either brave, Miss Bennett… or reckless.” “I’ve been called worse.” His lips twitched. For a second, it almost looked like a smile. “You’re hired.” Zoe blinked. “What?” “You start tomorrow. Eight a.m. sharp. My assistant will send the paperwork. Welcome to Carrington Corp.” She blinked again. “Wait…I got the job?” He stood and walked to the window, his tone neutral again. “Yes. Let’s see how long you last.” Zoe stood slowly, both dazed and suspicious. “Thank you… I guess.” As she turned to leave, his voice floated after her, low and deliberate. “Oh, and Miss Bennett?” She paused. “Next time, try not to spill coffee on your potential boss. It’s bad for first impressions.” Her cheeks burned. She didn’t respond. She just walked out with her head held high and her heart hammering in her chest.
Zoe showed up at Carrington Corp. the next morning twenty minutes early, determined to make a better second impression. She wore her cleanest white blouse, tailored gray slacks, and a pair of black pumps that pinched her toes but screamed “hire me.” Her hair was pinned neatly, and she had double-checked every document in her satchel. She wouldn’t let Damian Carrington see her flustered again. No chance. “Miss Bennett,” Mr. Kelvin greeted her with a knowing smile at the reception. “You’re early. That’s good. Mr. Carrington appreciates punctuality.” She nodded. “I appreciate jobs.” He chuckled. “You’ll be working directly outside his office. Your desk’s already set up.” As Zoe followed him through the glossy, high-tech corridors of the executive floor, she could feel eyes on her sizing her up, whispering behind hands. And then she met her. Miss Lara. A tall, red-lipped blonde in Louboutin heels and a blazer that cost more than Zoe’s entire closet. She leaned against a filing cabinet, arms folded, eyes scanning Zoe from head to toe like she was chewing her apart mentally. “You’re the new girl?” Lara said sweetly. Zoe smiled back. “Unless there’s another one hiding in a closet, yeah.” Lara gave a tight, unimpressed grin. “Cute. I’m Lara, Executive Analyst and senior assistant. If you’re smart, you’ll stick to coffee runs and try not to embarrass yourself.” Zoe tilted her head. “Thanks for the warm welcome. Anything else I should write down, or is that the full list of insults for the day?” Mr. Kelvin quickly stepped in before the tension escalated. “Miss Bennett, your desk is this way.” Zoe sat down at the minimalist white desk just outside Damian’s glass office. She could see his silhouette through the frosted pane, tall, sharp, still as a sculpture. Moments later, the office door opened. He stepped out, eyes flicking to her like he was inspecting inventory. “Morning,” he said. Zoe stood. “Good morning, Mr. Carrington.” “You’re early. I like that.” He handed her a printed list. “Start with these tasks. By noon.” Zoe scanned the list and her eyes widened. • Pick up custom-roast coffee from Grant & Bloom, three blocks away. • Review and summarize 20 pages of financial reports. • Arrange a conference call with Tokyo HQ. • Schedule three back-to-back investor meetings. • A handwritten thank-you note to a board member in Connecticut. By noon? She looked up. “This was meant for a team, right?” His expression didn’t change. “No. But I’m glad you’re asking questions. Most people just panic.” Zoe straightened. “Don’t worry. I don’t panic.” “Let’s see if that holds up.” 11:54 a.m. Zoe pushed the glass door open, nearly panting, her heels clicking fast. She had the coffee, still hot. She had the summarized reports annotated and stapled. She’d set the calls, mailed the thank-you card, and even rescheduled the Tokyo conference for 9 p.m. EST. As she placed everything neatly on Damian’s desk, he barely glanced at her. Then he picked up the coffee. Took a sip. Paused. Zoe held her breath. “I said oat milk. This is almond,” he said coolly, setting it down. Her stomach dropped. “I…oh. The barista must’ve misheard…” “No excuses, Miss Bennett. Attention to detail matters.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Understood.” He finally looked up at her, eyes unreadable. “You did better than I expected.” “Gee. Thanks.” His lips twitched. Again, that almost-smile. “You’re not going to cry?” “Nope.” “Slam the door on your way out?” “Nope.” “Curse me under your breath?” “Not yet.” He chuckled softly, then picked up the reports. “Let’s see how long that lasts.” Zoe turned and left, shoulders tense but her pride intact. Because while Damian Carrington might’ve thought he hired her to punish her… she was going to show him that she was made of more than mud stains and bad luck. She wasn’t going to fall apart. Not today.
The office was a ghost town by 7:48 p.m. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, and the skyline outside Carrington Tower glowed with a thousand windows and blinking aircraft lights. The only sounds were the distant hum of elevators and the soft tap of Zoe’s fingers on her keyboard. She hadn’t meant to stay this late. But just as she was packing up, Damian’s voice came from inside his office: “Miss Bennett, I need you to pull the quarter-three numbers from last year’s investor brief. The original file. Not the summary.” And of course, she wasn’t about to say no. So here she was, hours later, squinting at spreadsheets while her stomach growled in protest. She stood and stretched, tiptoeing toward the small break room to microwave a leftover granola bar she found in her purse. “Still here?” came a voice behind her. Zoe jumped. Damian leaned casually against the doorway, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened slightly. He looked far less CEO and far more human like this and somehow, that was even more intimidating. “You gave me extra work,” she said, holding up the snack like evidence. He glanced at the bar, smirking. “Is that dinner?” “Don’t judge me. You pay me in stress, not food.” A surprised laugh escaped him, short, but real. Zoe blinked. “Was that a laugh, Mr. Carrington?” “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed.” “You don’t exactly give off funny guy energy.” He stepped into the break room, walking past her to pour himself a glass of water. “That’s not in my job description.” “Neither is tormenting your assistant, and yet…” she trailed off, raising a brow. Another smirk. “Most people are scared of me,” he said suddenly. Zoe looked at him. “Yeah. I figured.” “You’re not.” “No,” she replied simply. “You’re not as scary as you think. Just… prickly.” His eyes lingered on her then, something unreadable flickering behind the silver-blue. He set the glass down. Before she could say anything else, the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then…darkness. A loud thunk echoed down the hallway. The hum of the AC vanished. Zoe stared into the shadows. “What just happened?” Damian’s voice was calm. “Power cut. Backup generator should kick in.” It didn’t. Instead, the emergency lights blinked on, dim and red. Zoe’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out and groaned. No signal. She looked at Damian. “Is this your idea of a training exercise?” He glanced around, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Elevators are offline too. Building security’s probably switching over to auxiliary systems.” “And we’re… locked in?” “For now.” Zoe stared at him. “Of course we are.” He stepped out into the hallway, and she followed. The silence was eerie. The city still buzzed outside, but inside the office, everything had stilled. “We might be here a while,” he said, checking his watch. “I hope you don’t expect me to keep working.” Damian looked at her over his shoulder. “No. But I expect you not to panic.” “I’m not panicking,” she said, crossing her arms. “Are you panicking?” He gave her a dry look. “Do I look like someone who panics?” Zoe leaned against the wall, folding her arms. “So… what do we do? Wait for a rescue team?” “We wait for maintenance. And maybe,” he said slowly, “we talk like normal people.” She raised a brow. “You? Talk like a normal person?” “I do that occasionally.” There was a pause, strangely comfortable. Zoe looked at him curiously. “So why are you like this?” “Like what?” “Cold. Untouchable. Always frowning like the world owes you something.” His eyes darkened slightly. “People disappoint. Money doesn’t.” “That’s sad.” “That’s reality.” They stood there, silence thickening between them. Then he asked quietly: “Why do you want this job so badly, Zoe?” She hesitated. No sarcasm this time. Just truth. “Because I have something to prove. To myself. To the people who think girls like me don’t belong in buildings like this. I want to make something of myself. From nothing.” Damian stared at her like he saw something he didn’t expect. A flicker of admiration. Or maybe… something else. Then the lights snapped back on with a loud buzz. Zoe let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Looks like we’re free.” Damian nodded but didn’t move. “Go home,” he said, voice lower than before. “You’ve done enough.” She didn’t thank him. She just walked past, pulse racing, feeling his eyes on her the entire time.
Zoe arrived at the office the next morning to find whispers following her like perfume. “That’s her,” someone murmured near the elevators. “Did you hear? She was locked in with him last night.” “They say she’s… close to the CEO.” Zoe kept walking, chin high, face unreadable exactly the way Tasha, her best friend, had coached her to act. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but in a place like Carrington Corp., rumors were more dangerous than facts. She settled at her desk outside Damian’s office and booted up her computer. But even as she tried to focus, she could feel Lara’s eyes drilling holes into the back of her head. Moments later, Lara sauntered over, sipping an iced coffee with an overexaggerated smile. “Rough night?” she asked sweetly. Zoe didn’t look away from her screen. “Actually, I slept great. Thanks for asking.” Lara leaned closer. “You might want to be careful, sweetheart. Girls who get too cozy with the boss usually fall harder when they get replaced.” Zoe finally looked up, her eyes sharp. “You seem awfully interested in my downfall. Should I be flattered or concerned?” Lara’s smile faltered just enough. “Just friendly advice.” “Noted. And here’s mine: try minding your own business. It’s less exhausting.” Before Lara could respond, the elevator chimed. And in walked a woman that made even Lara freeze mid-step. Vanessa Sinclair. She was perfection in a crimson designer dress and matching heels, with waves of golden hair cascading down her shoulders. Her lipstick was bold, her expression bolder, and the air around her chilled at least ten degrees. Her eyes landed on Zoe immediately. “Who is that?” she asked Mr. Kelvin, her voice smooth as velvet and just as dangerous. Mr. Kelvin cleared his throat. “That’s Zoe Bennett. Mr. Carrington’s new assistant.” Vanessa tilted her head. “Assistant, hmm?” Then, without breaking her confident stride, she walked straight past Zoe’s desk and into Damian’s office without knocking. Zoe blinked. “Do people just… walk into his office like that?” she asked Kelvin. “Only one,” he said. “That one.” Inside the office, Vanessa closed the door behind her with a sharp click. “Damian,” she purred. He looked up from his desk, eyebrows arching. “Vanessa. This is a surprise.” “Is it?” She moved closer, placing a slim hand on his desk. “You haven’t answered my texts. Or my mother’s invitation to dinner.” “I’ve been busy.” “With the help?” His eyes narrowed just slightly. “If you mean my assistant, I hired her based on skill, not pedigree.” Vanessa smiled, but her tone turned icy. “I’m sure. You know your mother won’t like this.” Damian stood, closing the file in front of him. “My mother likes power. And right now, Carrington Corp. doesn’t need another dinner party with your father’s political donors.” Her eyes flashed. “So you’re canceling the engagement?” “I never agreed to it.” She stepped closer. “You may not have. But our families did. And what they agree to… usually happens.” There was a long, tense silence. Then Damian said coldly, “I don’t make decisions based on pressure. Or gossip. And I certainly don’t owe you an explanation about who I hire.” Vanessa straightened her back. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She turned on her heel and stormed out, heels echoing like gunshots down the marble floor. And as she passed Zoe’s desk, she paused just long enough to flash a tight, elegant smile. “Nice blouse. Did they pull that from accounting’s lost-and-found?” Zoe smiled back, cool and unfazed. “Nope. I bought it. Unlike some people, I work for what I wear.” Vanessa’s eyes narrowed. But she said nothing and walked away, her perfume trailing behind her like poison in the air.
Zoe wasn’t naïve. She knew the moment Vanessa Sinclair walked into Carrington Corp., things wouldn’t be the same. What she didn’t expect was how fast the claws would come out. It started subtly. Her desk chair suddenly missing one wheel. An email mysteriously unsent though she swore she’d hit “Send.” Her name “accidentally” left out of the staff lunch invite. And her copy of the investor briefing? Replaced with a dummy file. But the final straw came when she walked into a department meeting… only to realize the presentation she had stayed up all night preparing had been swapped with a file full of errors. And it had her name on it. Damian sat at the head of the boardroom, expression unreadable as the first few slides flicked on the large screen. Confused graphs. Outdated numbers. Spelling mistakes Zoe knew she didn’t make. Whispers stirred around the long table. Zoe’s chest tightened. “I…I don’t know how this happened,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “These aren’t the slides I uploaded.” Lara smirked from across the room. Vanessa, seated by special invitation, of course didn’t even bother to hide her amusement. Damian said nothing at first. He simply closed his tablet and stood. “Meeting’s over,” he said coolly. The room emptied faster than a fire drill. Zoe stood there, stunned. Embarrassed. Angry. She gathered her notes with trembling hands, trying not to let anyone see her face. Before she could slip out, Damian’s voice stopped her. “Miss Bennett. My office.” She followed him upstairs in silence, her heart in her throat. Once inside, the door clicked shut behind them. Damian didn’t sit. He stood near the windows, arms crossed, back to her. “That presentation,” he said, “was a disaster.” “I know. But I swear, those weren’t my slides. Someone tampered with…” “Who?” She hesitated. She had no proof. Just gut feelings, and one too many icy smiles from Vanessa and Lara. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Then don’t make accusations.” Zoe stiffened. “I’m not making excuses. I stayed up all night on this. You know I wouldn’t be that careless.” Damian turned slowly, his gaze locking onto hers. “I also know this company is full of people who want to see you fail. You’re not the first to walk into a war zone without armor.” Zoe blinked. That almost sounded like concern. “So you believe me?” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t say that.” Her eyes narrowed. “No, you didn’t. You also didn’t stand up for me in that meeting.” He stepped closer. “And what would you have preferred? That I fire someone based on instinct? “No,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to know you had my back.” The room went still. He looked at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then… “You have two days. Redo the report. Present it again. This time, triple-check everything.” “And if it gets tampered with again?” His voice hardened. “Then you’ll prove it.” Zoe bit her lip. “Right.” She turned to leave, her hand on the door handle. “But Zoe,” Damian said, stopping her. She turned. “I do notice when someone’s lying,” he said. “And you weren’t.” Her chest tightened, just a little. She nodded, then stepped out. Down the hallway, Vanessa leaned against a pillar, arms folded. Lara was beside her, trying not to grin. “She’s shaken,” Lara whispered. “She’s predictable,” Vanessa replied coldly. “Next time, we won’t just embarrass her. We’ll eliminate her.”
By the time Zoe got home that evening, she was exhausted but wired. The events of the day played on a loop in her mind, taunting her with every detail. She threw her heels across the room and collapsed onto the couch, pulling out her phone to call the one person who always talked her off the ledge. “Tasha, I’m gonna lose it.” Her best friend’s voice came through the speaker, calm but fierce. “Tell me who to fight and where to meet them.” Zoe let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “The presentation was sabotaged. In front of everyone. I was humiliated.” “And you’re sure someone switched it?” “Positive. I checked it five times last night. The file they used was a butchered mess.” “Then someone’s setting you up, Zo. You need to find proof. Don’t just defend, expose.” Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right. No more playing nice.” Tasha’s voice softened. “And if Carrington doesn’t believe you…” Zoe’s silence said everything. The next morning… Zoe arrived earlier than usual. She didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t smile. She went straight to her desk and got to work. This time, she backed up everything she touched, twice. Email logs. File versions. External drive backups. She even set up an auto-recording macro to track every change made on her terminal. If someone tried to mess with her again, she’d catch them red-handed. Halfway through her prep, a soft knock sounded on her desk. It was Mr. Kelvin. “Hey,” he said gently, glancing around before lowering his voice. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But I saw Lara printing documents from your file folder yesterday afternoon. Said Mr. Carrington requested them.” Zoe’s stomach dropped. “He didn’t.” Kelvin nodded. “Thought so. I checked the request ID later, it was a dummy tag. Someone’s trying to frame you.” Zoe sat back in her chair, fists clenched. “Why are you telling me this?” Kelvin shrugged. “Because you don’t deserve what’s happening. And you’re the first assistant that hasn’t looked down on me.” Zoe smiled, warmth breaking through the cold. “Thank you.” He leaned in one last time. “If you want to catch them, check the print logs on Floor 11. Security archives everything. Even sneak jobs.” Later that day, Zoe rode the elevator up to Floor 11 like a woman on a mission. She passed HR, rounded the corner, and slipped into the printing hub. Ten minutes. That’s all it took. She found Lara’s login ID stamped on a document batch matching her presentation file dated the day before the meeting. Bingo. She copied the log file onto a USB drive and tucked it into her coat. That evening, Zoe entered Damian’s office unannounced. He looked up from his laptop, surprised. “I have proof,” she said, walking straight to his desk. “Of?” “My presentation was sabotaged. And it wasn’t a mistake.” She plugged in the USB and opened the files showing timestamps, document trails, and Lara’s user ID. Damian leaned in, silent as he scrolled through the evidence. His brows drew together, and his jaw tightened. When he looked up at her, the cold mask had cracked. “You really went through all this trouble?” “I had to,” she said simply. “Because I knew no one else would believe me.” His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. “You’re impressive when you’re angry.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flirt with me when I’m holding receipts.” That earned a rare, honest chuckle. “Don’t worry,” he said, straightening. “I’ll handle this.” Zoe nodded and turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. “Zoe.” She turned. His eyes softened, just a little. “You’ve got more grit than most people on this floor.” For once, she didn’t deflect. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “And I’m not done yet.” Meanwhile… Vanessa stood in Lara’s apartment, sipping red wine as Lara paced anxiously. “I told you it would work,” Lara said. “But that girl’s like a cockroach. She keeps coming back.” Vanessa’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Then we’ll just step on her harder.” She turned toward the window, her reflection glowing against the glass. “Let’s see how Damian reacts when he finds out she’s not as innocent as she seems.”
The next morning, tension hummed through the walls of Carrington Corp. Damian stood at the center of the executive conference room, arms folded, his eyes locked on Lara who suddenly looked much smaller than her usual high-heeled confidence. “You accessed a file from my assistant’s drive,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Without permission.” Lara cleared her throat. “I…I thought you asked me to…” “I didn’t,” he cut in. “And forging a system request? That’s a serious offense.” “Sir, I swear, it was just a misunderstanding…” He raised a hand, and the room fell silent. “This is a multi-billion-dollar firm, not a playground. You don’t get to sabotage people here and expect a promotion.” Lara’s face flushed with humiliation, her lip trembling. “I trusted you,” Damian continued, voice clipped. “But clearly, that trust was misplaced.” Then he turned to Zoe, who stood quietly at the edge of the room. “Miss Bennett. You were right to defend yourself. I apologize for doubting you.” Zoe blinked. The room was silent. Did Damian Carrington just say the word apologize? Lara stormed out, heels clacking like gunfire on the polished floor. Zoe looked at Damian. “Thank you.” He gave a single nod. “We’re not finished.” Later that day Zoe sat in the break room with a glass of water, finally letting herself breathe for the first time in days. She felt like she’d won a battle. But just as she reached for her phone, a notification popped up. A message from an unknown number: “Sloppy girls get sloppy endings. You won’t survive the next round.” Her heart sank. Zoe didn’t need three guesses to know who sent it. Meanwhile, across Manhattan… Vanessa sat at an exclusive salon, a glass of champagne in hand, as a tablet sat open in front of her. On screen was a series of photos grainy, but clear enough. Zoe. Damian. In the elevator. Talking. Smiling. His hand brushing her shoulder. Vanessa tapped a folder labeled “CONFIDENTIAL” and opened a document with Zoe’s personal records, old college reports, social media screenshots, and even images from her previous internships. A thin smile spread across her lips. “You want war?” she whispered to herself. “Let’s see how the world reacts when they think you slept your way into a job.” She sent the email draft to her PR contact with a click. Subject line: “Leaked: Carrington CEO’s New Flame — Ex-Intern with a History of ‘Climbing’ Her Way Up.” Back at Carrington Corp., Zoe walked out of the elevator into sudden silence. Eyes were on her. Phones were out. A few people stared at their screens and quickly looked away when she passed. Her stomach churned. She reached her desk and froze. An envelope lay there. No name. Just a single printed sheet inside. She opened it with trembling hands. It was the email leak. With her name. Her face. And the headline: “Sleeping Her Way to the Top?” Zoe’s knees buckled slightly as she sat down, breath shallow. Then… Damian’s door opened. He held a tablet in his hand. His jaw was tight. His eyes unreadable. “Zoe,” he said. “Come in. Now.”
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