The first thing Amelia Vale noticed was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that cautioned you: tread carefully. You do not belong here.
Her heels tapped against the marble floor of Raven Tower's expansive lobby. Black glass walls rose around her, shining like armour. Sculptures are twisted into crisp, modern designs. Everything in the place expressed power.
She straightened her shoulders.
She had twenty minutes to make a good impression, and failing was not an option.
The receptionist, dressed sharply in a navy suit, barely looked up.
"Name?"
"Amelia Vale," she murmured, keeping her voice steady. "First day."
The woman tapped something on her tablet.
"You're early," she replied.
"I thought that was better than late."
A pause. A little nod of approval.
The day's first little triumph.
"Wait there." She pointed to a simple, unwelcoming white seat.
Holding her leather purse tightly in her lap, Amelia sat. Executives walked by her, polished and self-assured, a far cry from the life she had fought her way out of.
She was struggling to make ends meet a year ago and was unsure about how to keep her mother's lights on.
She was now going to work for Damien Raven, whose business empire had a significant impact on the whole financial industry.
She would lose everything if she didn't succeed today.
To conceal the shaking, she pressed her hands together.
She jumped as she heard a bell from the receptionist's desk.
"Mr. Raven will see you now."
Amelia got up and pressed her skirt down. The weight increased with each step towards those doors of black glass.
She found the office to be both all she had anticipated and nothing she had anticipated.
minimalist. brutal. The city was thrown at her feet by floor-to-ceiling windows, seemingly daring her to grasp for it.
And there he was.
Raven, Damien.
His hands were in the pockets of a crisp charcoal suit as he stood at the window, a dark figure silhouetted against the cityscape. The room appeared to shrink as he turned.
He was terrible.
Not in a glossy, magazine-cover fashion.
Wolves were destructive in that regard.
brutal. Risky. Lovely.
He fixed her with his eyes.
"Miss Vale," he referred to.
"Mr. Raven." Her voice trembled barely little.
He was not smiling. failed to shake hands.
Rather, he examined her as though she were a problem he was already resolving.
"You worked for Stratton Holdings."
"Yes, sir."
"Why leave?"
"The business was acquired. Employees were cut off.
He responded, "Unlucky," with a faint chuckle. "Or lucky—depending on how you perform here."
He approached her slowly and methodically.
"Miss Vale, know something. I don't put up with errors. I don't need to repeat myself. I don't put up with weakness.
Between them, each line fell like a weight.
He said, "You want this job?"
"Yes."
"You want to survive here?"
"More than anything."
He came to a halt in front of her, so near that she could detect the subtle aroma of pricey cologne—clean, sharp, and menacing.
"Good," he muttered. "Because here, you either swim—or you drown."
Amelia's chin went up. "I'm a good swimmer."
There was a hint of humour on his face.
He presented a sleek black tablet to her.
"Your timetable. Examine it. Commit it to memory. "Live it."
Without saying another word, he dismissed her and moved back to the window.
With her heart in her chest, Amelia retreated from the office.
It was this.
The empire.
The shark tank.
The start of everything.
Furthermore, she was already deeper than she knew.
As Amelia left Damien Raven's office, the black tablet felt heavy in her hands.
She saw the receptionist's sidelong glare. pity? Laughter? It's difficult to tell.
"A lift. "Thirty-second floor," she pointed abruptly.
Amelia muttered a thanks and hurried toward the elevator banks.
The building's polished floors seemed to mock every uncertain step she took.
By the time the doors closed, she was breathing hard.
She tapped open the tablet.
Day One Schedule:
9:00 AM — Briefing with Senior Assistant
9:15 AM — Filing contracts (priority flagged in RED)
10:00 AM — Executive Board Meeting (Notes Required)
11:30 AM — Lunch Break (15 MINUTES ONLY)
11:45 AM — HR Documentation
12:30 PM — Weekly Planning Session (Mr. Raven Attending)
Her stomach twisted.
There was no ramp-up. No easing into the job.
It was sink or swim.
She checked her watch.
Eight minutes to reach the thirty-second floor and find the Senior Assistant.
The elevator dinged.
Amelia stepped into a hallway even colder than the lobby—white marble, chrome trim, and silence thick enough to choke on.
A woman stood waiting: tall, rail-thin, hair scraped into a severe bun.
"You're late," she said flatly.
Amelia blinked. "But—"
"No excuses. Follow me."
The woman strode off, heels slicing across the floor.
"I'm Victoria Harrow," she said over her shoulder. "Senior Executive Assistant. You will report to me unless Mr. Raven directs otherwise."
Amelia hurried to keep up.
"Here," Victoria said, shoving a thick folder into Amelia's hands. "Contracts. Red-flagged. Must be scanned, filed, and entered into the system by ten."
Amelia fumbled to hold both the folder and the tablet.
"And if even one is misplaced?" Victoria smiled coldly. "You'll be out before noon."
No pressure.
Victoria led her to a glass cubicle tucked into a corner. Barely bigger than a closet.
Get it done," she said, disappearing.
Amelia sat at the sleek desk, heart pounding.
Focus.
This was what she signed up for.
She pulled open the folder.
Pages and pages of legal contracts, dense with jargon and ink.
She powered up the desktop monitor, found the scanning program, and started feeding pages through, hands trembling.
The minutes bled away too fast.
At 9:53, she was still scanning the final contract when she felt someone standing behind her.
She turned—and found Damien Raven watching her.
He didn't say a word.
Just looked down at the half-finished pile, then at the clock glowing on her screen.
9:54 AM.
Her mouth went dry.
Without a flicker of emotion, he turned and walked away.
Amelia swallowed back the surge of panic and worked faster, double-checking every upload.
At exactly 10:00 AM, she slammed the last contract into place.
Done.
Barely.
The board meeting went quite quickly.
With her iPad in hand, Amelia sat in the back, attempting to record every quick decision and shorthand code executives threw across the table like grenades.
Sitting at the head of the table, Damien owned the room with his quiet despite his lack of words.
Amelia felt his eyes skim over her many times. Sharp. Assessing.
She ate a dry sandwich in precisely fourteen minutes while sitting by herself in the break room for lunch.
A fresh message appeared on her iPad as soon as she got back to her desk: "Meeting. 12:30." Prepare yourself. —DR.
As she put the iPad away, her hands trembled a little.
She was still being tested by Damien Raven.
She also had a feeling that this following round wouldn't include paperwork.