Chapter 01

Emery Quinn

I didn't belong here.

That was my first thought the moment I stepped into the glistening lobby of ValeCorp Tower. Not just because the floor beneath my heels looked polished enough to see my reflection in, or because every single person walking past me looked like they were born wearing tailored suits. It was more than that.

It was the air—cool and pristine, filtered through some expensive system that removed any hint of the city outside. It was the silence, broken only by purposeful footsteps and hushed, important conversations. It was the weight of invisible judgment pressing on my shoulders, as tangible as if someone had draped a heavy coat across my back.

I adjusted the strap of my fake leather purse, which creaked with protest, and prayed it wouldn't betray me by snapping in front of the glass-encased reception desk. The bag had served me well for three years now, through countless interviews and rejection emails. It was beginning to show its wear in the corners, just like my resolve.

My shoes—a sensible, worn pair of black flats—whispered against the marble. Not click-clacked. Whispered. The sound of someone trying not to be noticed, trying to blend into a world that wasn't designed for them.

No one else whispered here. Their footsteps announced their presence, their belongings didn't creak, and their eyes didn't dart nervously from corner to corner, searching for evidence that they'd made a terrible mistake just by showing up.

The reception area stretched before me like a museum exhibit, all clean lines and minimalist decor. Abstract art hung on walls that rose to a ceiling at least twenty feet high. A massive sculpture of what appeared to be the ValeCorp logo dominated the center of the space—sleek, imposing, a statement of power rather than beauty.

"Can I help you?"

The woman behind the desk looked up at me, her tone polite but glazed with that glossy disinterest of someone who filed humans into categories: important or unnecessary. I already knew which one I was. Her hair was pulled back into an immaculate ponytail, not a single strand daring to escape. Her makeup was flawless, highlighting cheekbones that could probably cut glass. The ValeCorp pin on her lapel glinted under the recessed lighting.

"Emery Quinn," I said, trying to make my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my chest. "I'm here for the assistant position. Ten a.m. interview."

Her gaze flicked to her screen, then to me again, lingering a second too long on my shoes. A barely perceptible change in her expression told me everything I needed to know about her assessment. She pressed a button on the landline, her manicured nail making a soft click. "Ms. Quinn is here. Yes... okay."

She stood, her movement as fluid as water. "Ninth floor. Human Resources. You'll need to scan this pass at the elevator."

She handed me a sleek black visitor badge that looked fancier than anything I owned. It felt cool and substantial in my palm, etched with the company logo and a barcode.

"Thank you," I murmured, clutching the badge like it might disappear if I loosened my grip.

I walked toward the elevators like I knew where I was going, even though every step felt like I was trespassing on private property. The lobby was vast, and crossing it seemed to take an eternity. My reflection ghosted alongside me in the polished surfaces of the walls, a constant reminder of how out of place I looked.

I'd applied for this job after yet another fruitless week of interviews. Three rejections, two "we'll call you" promises that never materialized, and one position that had been filled internally before I'd even sat down. Admin assistant to the CEO? I didn't think I'd even hear back. The listing had mentioned "competitive salary" and "comprehensive benefits"—phrases that had lost their meaning after months of job hunting, but still managed to kindle a flicker of hope.

But when the email came, offering an interview—at ValeCorp, no less—I'd stared at the screen for five minutes straight, rereading the words like they might disappear if I blinked. ValeCorp. The company whose skyscraper dominated the city skyline, whose CEO regularly appeared in business magazines with that trademark scowl, whose reputation for excellence was matched only by whispers about its cutthroat culture.

The elevator bank was tucked behind a curved wall, accessible only with a badge. I pressed mine against the sensor, and a soft chime indicated my clearance. The doors slid open silently, revealing an interior lined with the same dark marble as the lobby floor. I stepped inside alone, grateful for a brief moment to breathe.

My reflection in the mirrored walls didn't inspire confidence. My hair was neat, but not the glossy, magazine kind. The brown waves fell just past my shoulders, recently trimmed but lacking that salon shine. My blouse had been ironed last night, but the fabric was cheap—a pale blue that tried to look professional but instead just looked faded. My pants clung to my hips in a way that made me hyperaware of every inch of my body. I'd tried, though.

I'd tried so damn hard.

And now I was here, rocketing upward at a speed that made my ears pop, clutching a visitor badge like it was a golden ticket to a life I'd only glimpsed through windows.

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