Chapter 2 The Last Chance

The morning light seeped through a break in the fading slats, illuminating Emma's weary but resolute face. She would scarcely sleep. Her anxiety had awakened her hours before, so her alarm did not need to sound.

Today was the interview.

Wolfe Enterprises.

The name resonated in her mind like a hallowed chant. She moved with robotic precision, showering, brushing her teeth, and steaming her blazer until it stopped wrinkling and looked sleek. She tucked her hair into a tidy ponytail and applied makeup sparingly, just enough to conceal the tiredness lingering beneath her eyes. She looked in the mirror and inhaled deeply.

"You got this," she said softly to her mirror. "You have got to."

Her phone vibrated.

A note from Lily: Good luck today, Em. I adore you. You are going to receive this.

Emma grinned as her heart tightened. Lily was the reason she battled so hard. This employment was not about aspirations or status. It was about survival. There was medication, food, and late-night taxi excursions to the hospital. They had never experienced such steadiness before.

She boarded the train to Midtown, clutching her résumé packet securely in her hands. The train shook and hummed as passengers in stylish jackets and Bluetooth headphones read through their phones. Emma felt like an imposter wearing stolen armour.

She arrived at the Wolfe Enterprises building, a massive steel and mirrored glass skyscraper. It seemed that it had never experienced failure. She walked through the rotating doors into the marble-floored lobby, which was filled with hushed conversations, polished surfaces, and the aroma of expensive cologne.

A receptionist with a tight hairdo and a tighter grin welcomed her. "Name?"

"I am Emma Carter. I have an interview with Mr. Wolfe at 10 a.m."

"Take the elevator to the 43rd level. "He is awaiting you." The receptionist hardly looked up before waving her through.

Emma's hands were moist as she entered the gold-trimmed elevator. The journey up was smooth and silent. She could see her reflection in the stainless-steel walls-organized on the exterior, disorganized on the inside.

Ding.

The doors opened into a clean, minimalist floor. A secretary welcomed her cordially and motioned for a seat. "Mr. Wolfe will join you soon."

Emma sat with her résumé folder poised on her lap like a shield. Every second seemed like a year. Her heart pounded in her ears.

Then, the glass door of the CEO's office opened.

A tall guy walked out, wearing a black fitted suit with no tie and a pristine white shirt behind a sharp jawline. Alexander Wolfe. The guy she would read about is featured in news stories. He resembled a storm in human form, with black hair, pale grey eyes that saw everything, and a face cut from icy stone. He nodded at his secretary before turning his attention to Emma.

Those eyes.

Unflinching. Sharp. Calculating.

"Emma Carter," he announced. His voice was low, clipped, and demanding.

She stood, trying not to shake. "Yes, Sir."

"Come inside."

She followed him inside the office, which had floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of Manhattan's pulse. There is no clutter. No personalized touches. Only a desk, two seats, and the imposing figure of Alexander Wolfe.

"Take a seat."

She obeyed. He did not. He stood by the window, arms folded.

"You have applied to be my executive assistant."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Emma paused before lifting her chin. "I think I can accomplish it. I am well-organized, discreet, efficient, and remain cool under pressure. I learn rapidly. I"

"I have reviewed your résumé. The foster system. Scholarship. You graduated in the top five per cent of your class. "No corporate experience." He turned, his gaze sharpening. "Why should I take a chance on you?"

Her breath caught. She caught his stare and forced power into her words. "Because I do not offer excuses." I do not take shortcuts. I have worked for all I have. I understand responsibility better than others, and you will never have cause to regret employing me."

His brow rose slightly. "An impressive response. But I do not employ based on potential, Miss Carter. "I employ based on evidence."

He went to his desk and opened a folder. "How would you react if I asked you to postpone a meal with my business partner's wife at the last minute and reschedule it with someone I have avoided for six months?"

Emma blinked with astonishment at the unexpected exam. She breathed. "I would first clarify the cause for the change, and then make sure your calendar accommodated the new supper. I would contact both parties individually, handle any disappointment professionally, and follow up with your business partner's wife by giving her a lovely present to retain goodwill."

Silence.

Alexander stared up at her for a long time.

A flicker. Just barely there. But did his eyes soften?

"Very few people would think of the present," he remarked finally. Tell me. "Why are you not working anyplace right now?"

Emma paused. "I was let go from my former employment."

"Why?"

"There was a misunderstanding." She kept her voice level. "And I was not given an opportunity to explain."

Alexander examined her. "Are you a person who makes mistakes?"

"Yes. But I own them. "And I learn from them."

He sat back in his chair, his fingers tucked behind his chin. "You are either precisely what I do not need. This is precisely what I do.

Emma's throat clenched. "All I want is for a chance."

A beat of quiet. Then:

"You start Monday at 7:00 a.m. "Do not be late."

Emma blinked. "I-what?"

"Speak with my secretary about onboarding documentation. The post is probationary for 90 days. "You will earn the right to remain."

Her hands grabbed the folder. Thank you. "You will not regret it."

"We will see."

He turned aside and dismissed her.

Emma stepped out of the office, dazed. The secretary grinned as if she had just seen someone escape a trial by fire.

"I will send you the onboarding paperwork. "Congratulations," she murmured, a little astonished.

Emma walked into the elevator. Her heart raced. She had done it. After all the doors banged in her face, this one had opened.

Now, she had to show she had earned it.

Emma arrived at the 43rd-floor front desk at 6:55 a.m. on the following Monday, dressed in the same blazer but with a fresh sparkle in her eyes.

The first several hours were a blur-passwords, internal systems, meeting procedures, and calendar synchronization. Wolfe's office manager gave her a rapid review of expectations: anticipate everything, talk briefly, listen attentively, and resolve issues before they reached Alexander Wolfe's desk.

By 9:00 a.m., she had colour-coded his calendar, identified three conflicting meetings, rectified a data mistake in the financial summary, and organized his notes for the forthcoming board meeting.

At 9:30 a.m., Alexander entered the office.

He did not glance at her as he passed. "Coffee is black."

"Yes, Sir."

She delivered it a minute later. He accepted it quietly.

But as the day went on, something changed.

At midday, he said, "Did you arrange the VC call?".

"Yes. I rescheduled it to Thursday based on your flying itinerary."

At 2:00 am, he said, "Where is the Anderson contract?"

"On your desk, ready for signing."

By 5:00 am, he was speaking with questions rather than directives.

"Emma, have we received confirmation from the Tokyo team?"

"Yes. I received an email 10 minutes ago. "They agree."

At 6:30 pm, the majority of the floor had cleared out. Emma was still at her desk, polishing the following day's calendar, when Alexander left his office.

He hesitated.

"You remained."

"I still have some stuff to complete."

He nodded once. "Good."

That was all. His look, however, remained for an extra second.

Emma waited until he left before breathing again.

Her first day was over. And she had managed to withstand it.

She felt at home in this place.

Emma Carter experienced something she had not felt in years.

Hope!