Chapter 2 The Day I Met Her

The city of Estilo Capital seemed to swallow Emilia Torres with every step she took. As she walked through the streets, surrounded by imposing buildings that rose like walls of glass and steel, the feeling of being just another cog in an endless machine overwhelmed her. The noise of traffic, the honking horns, the voices of people crossing her path-everything seemed like a torrent of noise she couldn't escape. Everything around her was in motion, but she, like a shadow, couldn't find her place.

The sun, bright and cold, filtered between the skyscrapers, casting long shadows on the pavement like tentacles, wanting to trap her.

Today wasn't just any day, not by a long shot. Something had changed in the air, something Emilia couldn't quite identify, but she was sure would irreversibly affect her future. She walked slowly, but with a growing tension in her chest. With her briefcase under her arm, she felt the weight of the city, the pressure of what was to come, settling down on her, suffocating her, little by little.

Vega Industries, the business giant led by Adrián Vega, was the challenge she had decided to accept. The opportunity to work on the design of the new headquarters represented more than just a professional assignment. It was her chance to prove she could rise to the occasion, to turn her life around. But every time she thought about it, a wave of uncertainty and resentment surged through her. How had she gotten to this point? Why had she agreed to work for a man like him, a man who wielded more power than anyone else in the city? What was expected of her?

As she walked toward the Vega Industries building, the knot in her stomach tightened. The building itself wasn't just a structure of glass and steel, but a symbol of control, of boundless ambition, of absolute power over the city. It wasn't just an architectural project. It was the key to something much bigger, something that could change her life forever. But the closer she got, the more it felt like a trap.

"It's not personal," she repeated to herself like a mantra, but she knew it wasn't true. She couldn't ignore what she felt inside. There was something about her that told her this project wasn't going to be just professional. There was something much deeper that connected her to this place, to these people, to this man, and she couldn't help but wonder what.

As she crossed the street, her steps became heavier. A few seconds later, she stood in front of the main door of the Vega Industries building. The lobby was impressive, white marble and impeccably decorated, but everything about it seemed designed to intimidate. As she entered, the receptionist regarded her with a perfectly polished smile, but there was something in her eyes that made her feel even smaller, more insignificant.

"Architect Torres? The private elevator is ready," said one of the receptionists, her tone cold and professional, as if she already knew everything that was going to happen. Emilia nodded wordlessly and followed the receptionist silently, feeling how each step took her deeper into the labyrinth of a company that seemed tailor-made to isolate those who lived within.

The elevator, surrounded by glass and polished metal, offered no warmth, no sense of welcome. It was just a capsule transporting her to the center of power. The feeling of losing control over her own life suffocated her. On the 47th floor, the doors opened automatically, and Emilia was greeted by an office that was, simply put, overwhelming. There was no room for doubt, not even for respite. Every white wall, every enormous window overlooking the city, left no room for privacy. Everything seemed designed to make her feel like an intruder in a place where she didn't belong.

And there he was. Adrián Vega. Standing with his back straight, his hands resting on the tabletop of his desk. As their eyes met, Emilia felt a wave of helplessness. His presence dominated the room. He wasn't just a businessman; he was a man whose shadow seemed to cover the entire city. The owner of Vega Industries. The same man who had created this empire and who now looked at her as if she were just another tool in his arsenal.

"Architect Torres," he said, without turning around, as if he already knew who she was, as if her arrival were a formality. His deep tone, so confident, so authoritarian, made her feel even smaller. "Punctual. I like that."

Emilia was silent for a moment. She hadn't expected a compliment, but something in those words disconcerted her. Was he playing with her? Was he trying to manipulate her from the very beginning? The tension in her stomach grew sharply, and suddenly the entire office environment felt like an invisible prison. She wasn't just there to do a job. There was something else. Something I couldn't control.

"I have the preliminary plans," Emilia said, trying to remain calm, and placed the documents on the glass table, which somehow seemed endless.

Finally, Adrián turned to look at her. The intensity of his gaze pierced her, almost as if he were scanning her soul. It wasn't the first time Emilia had encountered powerful men, but there was something about this man, something in his eyes, that deeply unsettled her.

"I don't want a pretty office, Torres. I want a space that functions as an extension of my mind," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, as he approached the table without taking another step.

Emilia felt the air thicken. The pressure came not only from the magnitude of the job, but from the way he spoke, as if every word carried a weight of responsibility she hadn't asked for. The feeling of being trapped in that place, of being at the mercy of the expectations of a man who seemed to know no limits, washed over her.

"Then we're going to have to tear down some mental walls, Mr. Vega," Emilia replied, almost without thinking. That answer came out of her lips like an act of internal rebellion. She felt like her life, her identity, was being reduced to the confines of that building, to the walls of glass and steel that surrounded it.

Adrián smiled. The smile was so quick, so imperceptible, that Emilia wasn't sure she'd even seen it. But there was something in his expression that disconcerted her. Was it a smile of approval? A smile of defiance? She didn't know, but the answer he gave wasn't just about the project. It wasn't anymore.

"I like that," he said, his gaze returning to the plans.

The moment stretched into silence. Emilia didn't know if she had gained something from that conversation or if, on the contrary, she had lost even more control over her life. Everything was no longer just a job. She was involved in something much more complex, something that would not only test her as an architect but would also force her to confront her own fears, her own limits. And perhaps what terrified her most was knowing that she had no idea how she would get out of all of this.