The elevator doors closed behind Sophie, the hum of descent vibrating beneath her feet. But halfway down, her heart slammed against her ribs, breath catching painfully. What am I doing? The words she'd swallowed clawed at her throat like fire. If she stayed silent now, she'd be as complicit as the rest.
Without thinking, she jabbed at the control panel. The elevator shuddered to a halt. Sophie pushed through the doors the moment they parted and all but ran back up the stairs, her breath ragged, palms clammy with sweat.
Alex's office door loomed ahead. She didn't knock. She flung it open, the sudden motion echoing through the hushed executive suite.
Alex stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, phone pressed to his ear, his profile cut sharp against the city skyline. At the sound of the door crashing open, he turned, surprise flaring in his dark eyes. His gaze hardened almost immediately.
"I need to speak to you," she blurted, voice high and breathless.
His brow furrowed, irritation flashing. "I'm in the middle of a call," he snapped, holding up a hand to silence her.
"I don't care," she shot back, her voice cracking under the weight of urgency. "This can't wait."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. Without breaking eye contact, he ended the call with a curt, angry motion and lowered the phone. "Then talk," he ground out, his tone sharp as broken glass. "Before I lose my patience entirely, Ms. Carter."
"I overheard something," she fired out, words tumbling over each other. "About Vanessa. About a data leak so serious it could destroy her firm—and hand it straight to you. She's desperate to keep it hidden."
His eyes went dead cold. "And you chose," he seethed, voice low and lethal, "to keep this from me when I asked you what was wrong?"
"I didn't know if I could trust you!" she shouted, her voice raw, breath hitching. "I don't know you! You barely look at me, barely speak to me, and when you do it's to disMs. me like I'm nothing!"
"And yet here you are," he bit back, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "Storming into my office. Demanding my attention. Playing hero after the fact."
"Because I had to!" she yelled, her cheeks flushed, hands trembling but fists clenched at her sides. "Because sitting in that elevator felt like choking on my own fear! Because you make it impossible to know whether speaking up will save me or destroy me!"
"And you think you're the first assistant to feel that way?" His voice cracked like a whip. "Do you know how many have stood where you stand—too timid, too careful, too late?"
"And do you know," she flared, her voice shaking but louder now, "how it feels to stand in front of someone like you and see nothing but walls? To want to speak, but know it might cost you everything because you've given me no reason to believe you'd listen!"
For a moment, the air itself felt too thick to breathe. Her chest heaved, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes—but they didn't fall. Alex's nostrils flared, his jaw clenched so tight it seemed ready to crack.
His stare bored into her, unblinking, fierce. "You could have burned every bridge we had," he growled, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. "Do you understand what you risked?"
"And you could have burned me alive for daring to speak," she shot back, her own voice hoarse, raw with honesty. "Yet here I am, still standing, still speaking."
Something in his gaze shifted—not softer, but sharper, as if truly seeing her for the first time. His mind flicked to the others before her: assistants who had left with apologies, quiet tears, resignation letters left on polished desks—none of them daring to raise their voice, none of them throwing fire back at him.
But Sophie did. Her voice trembled, her face flushed, yet she met his fury with her own. Unpolished. Imperfect. Real.
Neither spoke, both breathing hard, the silence vibrating with unspoken truths and the unmistakable realization that something between them had shifted forever.
Alex's chest rose and fell, his breath ragged, every muscle coiled tight with frustration and something dangerously close to respect. The harsh lines around his mouth didn't soften, but they changed—like steel shifting under heat.
"You have no idea what you've walked into," he finally ground out, his voice low and rough around the edges. "No idea what this could mean for me. Or for you."
"I know," Sophie whispered back, swallowing hard, the echo of her heartbeat roaring in her ears. "But I couldn't keep it to myself."
For a heartbeat, Alex's gaze held hers so fiercely she felt pinned in place, unable to move, unable to breathe. Then he broke the stare, running a hand through his dark hair, making it messier, more human.
"You should have told me immediately," he rasped, each word tight as if pulled from somewhere deep in his chest. "Next time, you do. Without hesitation. Do you understand me?"
She nodded, her chin lifting. "I do."
His eyes swept over her face, searching, measuring, as if trying to decide what she truly was: a liability or something far more dangerous to his carefully ordered world. "And don't ever stand there and shout at me again," he added, voice hard.
She drew a shaky breath. "Or what?"
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking just below his cheekbone. "Or I might discover I don't hate it as much as I should," he bit out, the words sharper than he intended.
The adMs. ion hung in the air, raw and unexpected. Sophie's lips parted, surprise flickering across her face—but she caught it, pulled it back, her composure slipping only for a moment.
He turned away abruptly, needing the distance. "Get out," he ordered, voice low and hoarse, almost like a man telling himself as much as her.
But as she reached the door, his voice came again, quieter this time, gravel-edged but unmistakably real: "Ms. Carter… good work."
She froze, her heart stumbling over itself. Then, without turning back, she opened the door and stepped out, the soft click of it closing behind her ringing louder than any slammed door.
In the silence that followed, Alex exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, the echo of her defiance and honesty still burning like a brand in his mind.
She's not like the others.
And for the first time in a long time, that terrified him more than he wanted to admit.
Sophie stepped into the corridor, the polished floor cool beneath her heels, the hush of the executive level pressing in around her. The door clicked shut behind her, but her pulse was still loud in her ears, thudding in a ragged rhythm she couldn't quite steady.
She exhaled shakily, trying to gather her thoughts, but her body still hummed with adrenaline—half from fear, half from something sharper, more electric. Alex's words replayed in her mind, each syllable edged with authority and something she couldn't name.
"Or I might discover I don't hate it as much as I should." It left her breathless, her chest tight. No one had ever spoken to her like that—equal parts reprimand and reluctant confession. And the way he'd looked at her: as if he couldn't quite decide if she was his biggest mistake or something he couldn't afford to let go.
She paused by the row of sleek glass panels overlooking the city, her reflection caught there—a slim figure, blouse slightly rumpled, hair mussed from the rush, eyes dark with a mix of fear and exhilaration.
What the hell are you doing, Sophie?
She could have kept the secret buried, never said a word. It would have been safer. But the thought of watching from the sidelines—letting Vanessa's scheme play out, letting Alex stay blind to it—felt impossible.
And when he'd yelled, the raw edge in his voice had only made her more certain. This matters.
Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her blouse, forcing her shoulders back. The memory of his last words—"Good work"—settled into her chest, warm and heavy at the same time.
She had no illusions about what she'd just done. Alex Wolf was powerful, unpredictable—and she had pushed back against him. But as terrifying as it was, it had also felt… right. Like, for the first time since stepping into this world of glass towers and whispered deals, she wasn't just surviving it—she was part of it.
I can't turn back now, she thought, her fingers curling at her side. Whatever comes next, I'm in this. Completely.
With that thought steadying her, Sophie turned away from the glass, heels clicking sharply on the polished marble as she headed toward the elevator—her heart still pounding, but her resolve hardening into something closer to courage.
The elevator ride felt longer than it was—each floor ticking by in soft chimes as Sophie tried to calm the heat still coiling inside her chest. By the time the doors slid open to the executive reception area, she had barely begun to collect herself.
Claire Evans was waiting.
Leaning against the corner of the reception desk, arms crossed loosely, her sharp eyes fixed on Sophie with a faint, knowing amusement. Claire, with her sleek dark suit cut precisely to her tall, elegant frame, hair that made her look effortlessly powerful. Where Sophie felt small and flushed, Claire seemed carved from composure itself.
"That went very well," Claire said lightly, though there was a curious edge to her voice—half teasing, half amusing. "It's been at least three years since the last time someone yelled back at Alex."
Sophie blinked, heart giving a startled jump. "You… heard?" Her voice came out softer than she intended, edged with embarrassment.
"Everything," Claire admitted, a faint smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Don't look so stricken. It's not the worst first impression I've seen around here—in fact, quite the opposite."
Sophie's brow furrowed, still caught between confusion and lingering adrenaline. "I don't understand. Was it… wrong? Should I not have told him?"
Claire's dark eyes softened, just a fraction. "Right or wrong, it was honest. And around here, honesty delivered without flinching is worth more than polite silence." She paused, then pushed away from the desk, reaching into the folder she carried.
With deliberate care, Claire pulled out a single document—thick ivory paper, the Wolf Industries insignia embossed at the top. "Mr. Wolf instructed me to have you sign this." Her tone was perfectly level, but the corners of her lips hinted at amusement.
Sophie stared at the contract, recognition dawning slowly. "Is this… my employment contract?"
Claire gave a crisp nod. "Effective immediately. A probation period of six months, standard terms. After that, if you last—and very few do—you'll transition to permanent staff." She tapped the document lightly, her nails clicking against the paper. "Read it, sign it, and keep a copy."
As Sophie took the papers, hands trembling slightly, Claire slipped something else into her palm—a slim card embossed with nothing but a single phone number. "And this," she added, her voice lowering, "you answer it whenever it rings. Day or night. Understand?"
Sophie looked from the card to Claire's composed face. "Even in the middle of the night?"
"Especially in the middle of the night," Claire confirmed, her tone almost amused, though her eyes were serious. "Consider it part of the job. You're not just another assistant anymore."
Sophie hesitated, words catching on her tongue. "I still don't understand why. I'm not… qualified, at least not compared to—"
Claire cut her off gently. "Because you said what needed to be said," she replied. "And because you did it despite knowing it could cost you everything. That's rarer than you think."
Sophie felt a flush creeping up her neck—half pride, half disbelief. "So this is… good?"
"It is," Claire assured her, softer now. "Intimidating, chaotic, probably infuriating—but good." Her smirk returned. "Welcome to Wolf Industries, Sophie Carter. You just crossed a line most never dare approach."
Sophie swallowed, the weight of the moment sinking in. "Thank you," she whispered, voice low.
Claire's gaze lingered on her a moment longer—sharp, measuring, almost protective. Then she stepped back, folding her arms. "Finish up here. Go home, get a good night's sleep and be prepared for tomorrow."
As Claire walked away, Sophie's pulse finally began to slow. The ivory contract felt heavy in her hands, the phone number burning like a secret against her skin. Somewhere deep inside, she recognized the truth Claire hadn't spoken outright:
This was only the beginning.