Cassie Moss stared at the cracked ceiling above the couch and pretended not to hear her phone buzzing under the pillow.
It had been buzzing a lot lately.
Not because people wanted her.
Because rejection emails loved her.
She exhaled and rolled over. Her whole body felt heavy the kind of tired that was deeper than sleep. Since graduation, she'd bounced from interview to interview, smiling politely while supervisors told her she was "promising" and "maybe next quarter."
Promising didn't pay rent.
And "next quarter" came with hunger.
The phone buzzed again, more impatient this time.
Greg's footsteps creaked in the hallway. He was her cousin kind, soft-spoken, always pretending not to notice when she skipped breakfast. He worked double shifts just to help keep the apartment afloat.
Cassie didn't want to be another bill.
She reached for the phone.
Unknown number.
Great. Either a scammer… or another disappointment.
She swallowed and answered.
"Hello? This is Cassie Moss."
Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
A woman on the other end spoke calm, professional, rehearsed.
"Good morning, Miss Moss. This is Helena from Levin & Co. We're calling about your interview from last week."
Cassie sat up too fast. Her heart misfired.
Levin & Co.
The one interview she actually wanted sleek skyscraper, ridiculous security, whispered office gossip about the mysterious CEO no one ever really saw.
And the strange feeling she'd had in their lobby like the air thickened, like someone stood behind her whispering her name, even though the receptionist swore no one had been there.
She dug her nails into her palm.
"Yes, I remember. I thank you for calling."
The line went silent for half a beat, long enough for Cassie's stomach to twist.
"Your interview was successful, Miss Moss."
Cassie blinked. "I'm sorry....what?"
"You've been offered the position of executive assistant. If you accept, orientation begins tomorrow morning at eight. There will be… additional paperwork. The salary package and housing stipend are included in your contract packet."
Housing stipend?
Her throat went dry.
"I.... yes. Yes, I accept."
She didn't even think. The words leapt out before her brain caught up. Because what else was she going to say? No, thank you, I'd love to keep depending on my cousin and crying into instant noodles?
"Wonderful," Helena replied. "Dress code is business formal. Please bring two forms of ID and arrive ten minutes early." A pause. "And Miss Moss?"
"Yes?"
There was something different in the woman's tone now — like she'd stepped off the script.
"Be careful with the elevators."
The call ended.
Cassie stared at the phone.
Be careful… with the elevators?
The apartment door squeaked open. Greg poked his head around the corner, hair messy, still wearing his overnight uniform from the hospital.
"You're up," he said, smiling. "Thought you'd sleep till noon."
She hopped off the couch, heart racing. "Greg."
He looked alarmed. "What? What happened?"
"I got it."
He blinked. "…the job?"
Her grin answered for her. He laughed and pulled her into a hug that smelled like cheap coffee and antiseptic.
"I knew they'd be smart enough," he said into her hair.
She didn't tell him about the housing stipend. Or the elevator warning. Or the way the voice had felt like… déjà vu.
Because there was something else she didn't say out loud:
She had dreamed about that building before.
Months ago.
Before she had ever heard of Levin & Co.
In the dream, she was standing at the top floor wind roaring through broken glass and a man with dark eyes stood in front of her, offering his hand.
"You died for me once," he murmured.
"Don't do it again."
She always woke up before she touched him.
Cassie shook her head, clearing the memory. Dreams were just stress. She had a job now. Real life mattered.
And yet…
Her chest tingled, like someone had just whispered her name again.
The City Wakes
Morning traffic snarled through downtown like a restless animal, horns blaring, sunlight bouncing off endless mirrored windows. Cassie adjusted the borrowed blazer she'd ironed three times and tried to ignore the fact that her heels were second-hand and slightly too big.
The tower loomed ahead.
Levin & Co.
Forty-two stories of steel, tinted glass, and money. The revolving doors spun silently. Security guards in black suits scanned everyone with discreet, polite smiles that did not reach their eyes.
Cassie's palms dampened.
As soon as she stepped inside, the air changed cooler, heavier, humming faintly like a storm trapped indoors.
She walked toward the front desk. The receptionist the same woman from last week looked up, and for a flicker of a second Cassie swore the woman's pupils dilated like a cat's.
Then she smiled warmly.
"Welcome back, Miss Moss. You're expected."
Not congratulations, not Right this way.
She was expected.
The word crawled under Cassie's skin.
The receptionist handed her a badge with her name printed in silver. When Cassie touched it, the metal felt warm almost like a pulse.
Probably my imagination, she told herself.
A group of new hires gathered by the elevator bank. A few whispered nervously. A tall guy cracked a joke about the CEO being a vampire because no one ever saw him during the day.
The elevator doors slid open.
Cassie stepped in with them.
The moment the doors shut, the lights flickered.
Her stomach dropped.
One of the guys laughed. "Old building?"
But this building wasn't old.
The hum grew louder like a heartbeat echoing up the steel cables and a whisper crawled across Cassie's thoughts.
Cassie.
Her name.
Clear. Soft. Familiar.
She gripped the handrail.
The elevator jerked. Everyone gasped as it shuddered to a halt between floors. A girl clutched Cassie's arm.
"Oh my God....."
The lights blinked out.
For two seconds, total darkness swallowed them.
Then a glow bloomed faint, blue-white right beside Cassie's wrist. She stared. The badge on her blazer was glowing, tiny veins of light spidering through the metal like frost.
No one else reacted.
They didn't see it.
The whisper returned closer now, right by her ear.
Found you.
The elevator lurched back to life. Lights surged on. Floor numbers resumed climbing like nothing had happened. People laughed nervously, muttering about maintenance.
Cassie yanked her sleeve over the badge.
Her heart hammered all the way to the top floor.
The Man Upstairs
Orientation happened fast paperwork, HR speeches, a short tour of pristine hallways that smelled like citrus and glass cleaner. The supervisors talked about excellence, confidentiality, and "the privilege of working at Levin."
But Cassie kept glancing at the ceiling, listening for that hum.
The supervisor a thin, sharp woman finally stopped them near a set of dark double doors.
"This floor is restricted. Very few are permitted here. Please remember your NDA."
Someone whispered, "Is that his office?"
The woman's lips tightened. "Yes."
Cassie didn't know what she had expected
maybe heavy oak, old money style but the doors looked modern and simple.
Almost like they didn't want attention.
The woman turned suddenly, eyes landing on Cassie.
"Miss Moss, stay behind when we dismiss. You've been assigned differently."
Cassie froze. "Differently how?"
"You will be working directly under the CEO."
A ripple of envy moved through the group.
The supervisor continued, almost impatient, "Your skills matched certain… requirements."
Requirements?
Cassie nodded, throat tight.
One by one, the others left. The doors opened soundlessly.
Inside, the office stretched wide and minimal: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek furniture, an untouched coffee cup on the table.
And then movement.
A man stood near the window, back turned, hands clasped behind him.
Black suit. Broad shoulders. Quiet, serious posture. The reflection in the glass showed only a sharp jaw and a line of shadow across his cheekbone.
The room felt colder with him in it.
He spoke without turning.
"Close the door."
The supervisor bowed her head slightly bowed then slipped out.
The click echoed.
Cassie was suddenly aware of every breath she took.
He turned slowly.
His eyes were the first thing she noticed dark, intense, and… older than he looked. There was something impossible in them. Recognition. Grief. Relief.
Like he had been waiting centuries.
"Miss Moss," he said softly.
Her name sounded dangerous in his mouth.
"Yes, sir," she managed.
He studied her face, as if mapping it to a memory. Finally, he exhaled, almost like a confession.
"You're late."
She blinked. "Late for what?"
He didn't answer the question. He crossed the room — quiet, controlled, way too close — and reached for the badge on her lapel.
The metal warmed again at his touch. A faint shimmer pulsed through it.
Cassie's breath caught.
"What… is that thing?"
He looked at her, truly looked and something in his gaze softened, then hardened again as if he'd built a wall over emotion.
"A protection," he said. "And a leash."
Her skin prickled.
Leash?
A gust of wind slammed the windows suddenly, even though the sky outside was clear. Papers rustled across the desk. The lights above flickered once like the elevator.
He didn't flinch.
"You'll start today," he continued calmly. "You'll sit outside this office. You'll manage my schedule, filter communication, and—" he paused, eyes lingering on hers, "—you'll avoid the east elevator."
Her heart kicked. "Why?"
He considered her for a moment.
"Because it remembers you."
Her mouth went dry. "That doesn't make sense."
"Not yet." His voice dropped. "But it will."
He moved back toward the window as if dismissing the conversation entirely. "Sign the additional contract at the desk. And, Miss Moss?"
"Yes?"
"Never run when the building calls you. It only chases what runs."
A chill crawled down her spine.
She stepped out of the office with shaking hands.
The hallway seemed longer now. Colder. The humming had grown faint, like something waiting above the ceiling tiles.
Cassie sat at the polished assistant's desk outside the double doors and stared at the city skyline.
New job. New life. Mystery boss. Haunted elevators.
And somehow deep in her chest an ache she didn't know how to name.
She pressed her palm over her heart.
The words from her dream whispered back:
Don't die for me again.
She swallowed hard and opened the contract packet.
Ink glimmered faintly across the bottom line, like silver veins.
She signed anyway.
Because what else do you do when the curse that loves you… finally finds you?