Chapter 3 03

H&K APARTMENT BUILDING**

The door clicked shut behind her with a soft finality that echoed in Ayla's chest.

She didn't move at first. The apartment was too quiet-too clean, too beautiful. She stood in the entryway, holding her worn duffel bag like it didn't belong here, like she didn't belong here.

Cream-colored walls, polished wooden floors, and a wide living space opened up before her. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline like a painting. The air smelled of lavender and linen, and not even a speck of dust sat on the glass coffee table or the untouched shelves.

Ayla felt like she'd stepped into someone else's life.

The only sound was her heartbeat.

Her fingers tightened around the bag strap. She took a tentative step forward, then another, like the ground beneath her might vanish if she moved too quickly.

In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and stared at the fully stocked shelves. Yogurt. Cheese. Bottled water. Sparkling juice. Things they couldn't afford back home.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes.

She hadn't cried when she left. Not when she kissed her mother's forehead goodbye, not when she boarded the company car alone, not when the glass doors of H&K's towering headquarters swallowed her up. She hadn't even let herself cry when they told her she'd been hired-even though she didn't understand why.

But now, in this place that felt more hotel than home, surrounded by cold beauty and silence... the loneliness hit her.

She didn't cry.

She just closed the fridge, stood a little taller, and walked to the bedroom.

NEXT MORNING***

A company-issued phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand.

> STAFF ELEVATOR C. FLOOR 32. REPORT AT 7:30 AM SHARP. WEAR BLACK.

No signature. No name. Just cold, clinical instructions.

She blinked at the screen, then glanced at the time. 6:41.

Ayla sprang into action.

She dressed in the black blouse and slacks she had pressed the night before. They were plain but neat. She tied her hair back into a low ponytail, slipped on flats, and left without breakfast, her nerves twisting with every step.

The elevator ride to Floor 32 felt like ascending into another world. When the doors opened, the change in atmosphere was instant-quiet, controlled, intimidating.

Security men stood by a thick black glass door, but they didn't question her. Just nodded and let her through.

Inside, Ayla was met by Amelia Cross-the same woman who had spoken to her during orientation. Her sharp navy pantsuit looked crisp enough to cut glass, and her expression didn't shift when she saw Ayla.

"You're early," she said, checking her watch. "Good."

Ayla nodded, unsure if she was allowed to speak.

Amelia led her down a hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling glass offices and brushed steel handles. The walls whispered money. Power. Untouchable class.

"Mr. Hayes will not see you today," Amelia said smoothly. "He doesn't meet new assistants unless absolutely necessary."

Ayla swallowed. "Okay."

"You'll be stationed in the adjoining office. You will not enter his suite unless directly summoned. You will not speak unless addressed. You will handle emails, schedules, coffee, and calls. Discretion is expected. Efficiency is required."

They stopped outside a smaller door just beside a grander one, marked simply with "HAYES" in thin silver letters.

Amelia keyed in a code and opened the door.

"This is your station."

Ayla stepped in.

The room was minimalist and modern, with a large desk, mounted screen, and a second locked cabinet. A high-end coffee machine sat in the corner beside a digital task panel. The window beside the desk gave her a breathtaking side-view of the city skyline.

Amelia handed her a tablet. "Tasks are preloaded. Stick to the schedule. You'll be observed."

Before Ayla could ask what that meant, Amelia left and closed the door behind her.

She was alone again-but not the kind of alone she was used to. This was a different kind of silence. It pressed on her shoulders, expectant and heavy.

~~~~~~

The hours moved like quicksilver.

Tasks poured in: emails to file, courier deliveries to sign off, schedules to cross-reference and optimize. One email simply read, "Find black ink refill, exact match only. Needed in 35 minutes."

She had no idea which ink, or where to find it. But she ran downstairs, asked questions, found the exact model, and returned sweating and breathless-with one minute to spare.

No one praised her. No one even noticed.

But she felt proud.

Once, she nearly dropped a sealed envelope marked "HAYES – CONFIDENTIAL" and spent five full seconds on the floor, heart in her throat, praying the invisible cameras weren't watching.

And still, no one sent her home.

~~~~~~

At 12:56 PM, the door to Killian Hayes' office opened.

Ayla froze.

A tall man stepped out-charcoal suit, black tie, crisp white shirt, broad shoulders and an unreadable expression carved in steel. He didn't spare her a glance. Just handed a folder to someone down the hall and turned back inside.

That was him.

Killian Hayes.

Her boss.

She had expected someone older, maybe graying at the temples. But he couldn't have been more than thirty-five. His posture was perfect, his stride silent. His presence alone sent a chill down her spine.

Then he was gone again.

The door shut. The hallway quieted.

Ayla released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

~~~~~~

When her shift ended at six, she walked home. The city was a blur of headlights and honking, people bustling past in designer suits and heels. Ayla felt invisible in the best and worst way.

Back in the apartment, she kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch, exhausted but wired.

Her phone rang.

"Mama," she breathed, smiling as her mother's tired but gentle voice came through.

"How was it?" her mother asked. "Your first day?"

"It was... overwhelming," Ayla admitted. "But no one yelled. And I didn't mess up. I think."

"That's all that matters," her mother said warmly. "You're trying. I'm proud of you, baby."

Ayla closed her eyes.

She didn't tell her mom that she hadn't seen her actual boss, or that she still didn't know why they hired her with no experience. She didn't say that she felt like a ticking time bomb in silk walls.

Instead, she whispered, "I'm gonna make this work, Mama. I promise."

Her mother laughed softly. "You already are."

And for a moment, that was enough.

To be continued.....