The Carrington Company was a monument to mirrored glass and ambition. Inside, the walls gleamed with corperate elegance and aesthetic control.
Except Seraphina Carrington wasn't here for any of that.
Her heels struck the marble floor like gunshots as she stormed past the receptionist.
"Don't bother announcing me," she snapped.
The assistant, already wise to the Carringtons' ways, simply nodded and shrank into her seat. Seraphina was a storm no one tried to stop.
She threw open her father's office door, words already chambered like bullets.
"Father, we need to talk about this pathetic sum you transferred. You expect me to launch an..."
She stopped.
So did the woman perched on her father's lap.
Seraphina's lips parted, but no sound came. Raymond Carrington. Fortune 500 icon, master of control, was leaned back in his leather chair, shirt undone at the collar, his tie draped around a wrist that now rested on a thigh that wasn't his wife's.
Seraphina blinked, then smirked. "So this is where the rest of the money meant for my 'stability' goes?" She threw air quotes into the space like daggers.
The woman stood immediately, struggling to button her blouse with whatever dignity she could salvage. She was mid-thirties, corporate polished, with red lipstick too bold for this office. Seraphina recognized her. A legal advisor, recently hired.
Raymond didn't flinch. "Close the door, Seraphina."
She didn't budge. "You're seriously doing this during office hours? And you—" she snapped at the woman, voice sharp as glass, "can't you see I'm talking to my father? Your boss. Remember him?"
The woman mumbled, "I should go," and darted toward a side door Seraphina hadn't even noticed before.
Raymond remained seated, gaze unyielding. "This is not your concern."
Seraphina let out a bitter laugh. "Not my concern? When you've practically thrown me into a six-month gladiator match and handed me a joke of a budget?"
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "And honestly, why do you have such awful taste in women? Mother, rest her soul, wasn't exactly Carrington material, but even this is beneath her."
Raymond rose at last, adjusting his cuffs with the cold precision of a man who hated disorder.
"Watch your tone. You came for money, not to audition for a morality play."
"No, I came for respect," she snapped. "You gave me a budget that couldn't keep a start-up alive for three months in Manhattan. Meanwhile, your legal advisor gets a private audience, on your lap?"
His jaw tightened, but his voice remained cool. "You wanted to play in the big leagues. This is how it's done. Resourcefulness. Not entitlement."
"I am resourceful," she hissed. "But don't insult me by expecting miracles from crumbs. I'm not Thea. I won't grovel and 'build character' just to earn your scraps."
He stepped forward, close enough for her to see the faint scars near his face. The ones he never explained. Battle souvenirs from a past no one dared question.
"You think this is punishment? It's preparation," he said. "If you can't make something from nothing, you don't deserve the board seat."
She folded her arms. "And if I do? What then? You hand me a corner of your empire and call it love?"
A flicker passed through Raymond's eyes. "I don't give love, Seraphina. I give opportunity."
She studied him. This man who built empires but couldn't hold a family together.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Then no wonder we're all broken."
A silence thickened between them—heavier than the glass giant desk that divided father and daughter.
Finally, Raymond turned away and poured himself a drink.
"Leave if you're done," he said.
But Seraphina didn't move. Her voice sharpened, cutting the air cleanly. "You're not untouchable, Father. Play with fire long enough, and even you'll burn."
She turned and walked out, heels echoing her fury with every step.
Behind her, Raymond Carrington stared into his glass of drink. His reflection unclear.
But he didn't blink.
Later that day, at Arkos.
Jane Hayes had adjusted her cardigan and knocked twice on the frosted glass door that bore the engraved name: Jace Davis, CEO. Her stomach flipped. She had no idea why the CEO wanted a private meeting during her lunch break.
"Come in," came the voice from inside the office.
She stepped in, eyes briefly catching the beautiful view of Manhattan behind him. The office was sophisticated, nothing out of place, nothing unintentional. Like the man seated behind the desk.
Jace Davis didn't look up right away. He tapped his pen against the computer in front of him, then finally raised his wrist and glanced at his watch.
"You're late," he said.
Jane blinked. "I'm actually on time. This is my lunch break, so I wasn't scheduled to be early."
A pause.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, realizing she might be in trouble.
Then a subtle raise of his brow. "Fierce," he thought, watching her. A factual person.
He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "Fair point. Sit."
She did, posture straight, eyes cautious but steady.
"I'll get to it quickly," he said. "I'm traveling next week to Switzerland for the Arkos-European Oncology Summit. The staff was briefed two days ago. So you must have heard that I'll be selecting a personal aide... assistant. You've been selected."
There was a shock in Jane's eyes, too quick for most to catch, but he saw it.
Not excitement, just surprise, edged with hesitation.
Jane opened her mouth, then shut it for half a second, just long enough to weigh her words.
"It's not that I don't want it," she said carefully. "I'm just... surprised. Out of everyone in this building, I'm the least expected pick."
"Why? Are you not good at your job? Maybe I heard wrong," he said, pretending to get her file to call her supervisor.
"No, Sir. Not at all," she blurted.
"I said that because I'm just an assistant secretary, a student and an intern. Moreover..." she hesitated, "I don't exactly blend into the cocktail circuit. I wasn't born with the kind of polish that gets you seen around here."
He didn't smile, but his gaze narrowed with interest.
She added, softer now, "And because I have a sick mom at home. I do most of her care. Travelling is complicated."
Still, he said nothing. The room buzzed faintly with the white noise from the air vents which underscored the silence.
When he finally spoke, it wasn't sympathy he offered.
"You'll be gone four days. We'll cover accommodations, and the pay is generous. Your job is safe. But if you're saying no, say it clearly."
"I didn't say I was declining," Jane replied, eyes flicking up to meet his. "I'm just... trying to process all of this."
He watched her like a chess master surveying an unpredictable opponent.
"You think I chose you by accident?"
"I think I was invisible until about twenty-four hours ago."
That pulled something from him. Not a laugh, but the shadow of one. A breath through the nose. Impressed.
"You're observant. Good. You'll need that."
Jane leaned forward slightly, tone cautious but firm. "With all due respect, Mr. Davis… if this is about more than admin work, if this is some test, I'd rather know up front."
Jace stood and moved toward the window, hands in his pockets, staring down at the endless sprawl of New York. "Everything's a test, Jane. The sooner you accept that, the more useful you become."
"And if I don't want to be useful to you?"
He turned. Slowly. And this time, his voice dipped into something quieter. Dangerous. "Then you wouldn't be sitting in that chair."
She held his gaze, heartbeat loud in her ears.
The air between them felt charged.
At last, he turned back to his desk, picked up a folder, and handed it to her.
"Flight itinerary. You'll be briefed daily. I expect discretion, punctuality, and critical thinking. I heard you're late most of the time and you just proved that right now. That would have to change."
She was shocked. He did his research well before she came.
"You'll be near classified research and high-level investors. That's not a responsibility I hand out lightly."he continued.
Jane took the folder, fingers tightening around the edge. "Understood."
As she stood to leave, he added, almost casually. "Your mother will be provided full in-home care through our wellness program while you're gone. No cost."
Jane froze.
Her throat closed, but her spine stayed straight. "That wasn't in the folder."
"No," Jace said. "That was part of the decision."
She stepped out of his office, the folder clutched to her chest like it might burn a hole through her blouse. Her reflection which stared back at her in the mirrored wall looked calm, but her heart was racing.