Chapter 1 The Interview

Rochelle's phone buzzed, Lila's name lighting up the screen.

Lila: *You're really diving into Tolland Inc.? Place gives me cult vibes. Text if you need an escape plan.*

Rochelle smirked, thumbs flying over the screen.

Rochelle: *I'll survive. Wish me luck:)*

Lila's skepticism was nothing new; a steady rhythm in their decade-long friendship, but the message planted a seed of unease. Something about Tolland Inc. did feel... off. The internet offered little beyond glossy PR blurbs about "global innovation" and "reshaping the future." Too glossy, maybe.

Outside, the glass tower of Tolland Inc. sliced into Manhattan's skyline, its obsidian surface mirroring the frantic pulse of the city. Rochelle adjusted her blazer and stepped into the lobby, heels sinking into plush carpet. Sleek, anonymous suits passed her by in brisk waves.everyone looking all business.

Her MBA had landed her this interview: executive assistant to the CEO, but now, in a sea of polished ambition, her stomach twisted.

Do I even have a shot? I need this job. she thought to herself.

A clipped voice cut through the bustle. "Rochelle Arden?"

A blonde woman stood before her, clipboard in hand, every inch of her radiating precision.

"That's me," Rochelle said, startled to be called first. She grabbed her bag, heart lurching.

"Olivia Anderson. Head of operations," the woman said, already turning. "Follow me. Your interview starts now."

"Of course." Rochelle forced a smile and kept pace, her nerves spiking with every step. This wasn't just a job, it was a future. She couldn't screw this up.

The interview room screamed minimalist luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a fractured view of the city, white walls gleamed under unforgiving lights, and a single abstract painting-slashed with blood-red streaks-hung opposite the door.

"Impressive decor?" Olivia asked, catching her glance.

Rochelle straightened her shoulders. "The art's... evocative." The jagged lines seemed almost to pulse. She blinked. Nerves. Just nerves.

Olivia didn't smile, but there was a flicker of something; approval, maybe? "We expect our executive assistants to handle any task without hesitation. Are you prepared for that?"

"Absolutely," Rochelle replied. Her voice held steady this time. She'd prepared for this-mock interviews, resume overhauls, ted talks, even meditation apps. She was ready.

"Tolland Inc. prides itself on global impact," Olivia said briskly. "Why do you think you belong here?"

Rochelle leaned forward, matching her energy. "I believe in impact. In pushing boundaries. Tolland's mission aligns with mine and I want to support something that changes the world."

Olivia's mouth twitched. "Mr. Tolland may like that answer."

Just then, the double doors opened. The air shifted.

A man entered, and the room stilled.

His charcoal suit fit like armor, his movements were very precise, feline. Damien Tolland.

His dark hair was slicked back, jaw sharp as sculpture, but it was his eyes that held her: an unnatural green, electric and unreadable.

"Olivia," he said, voice smooth as shadow. "I'll take it from here."

"We've only just started-"

"It's fine." His tone ended the discussion. He turned to Rochelle. "Rochelle Arden?"

Her throat dried. "Yes."

He sat across from her, studying her resume as if it were a puzzle he already knew the solution to. "What do you desire, Rochelle?"

The question hit like a chord in a quiet room.

"I... want this job?" she answered weakly, wincing.

His lips curled, not quite a smile-something sharper. "I didn't ask what you want. I asked what you desire."

She hesitated, then let the truth slip through. "Control. Over my time. My future. My life."

His gaze sharpened. "Honest." He flipped a page in her file. "Community college. Harvard MBA. GoodSpace Foundation. Describe that experience in three words."

"Enlightening. Thrilling. Fulfilling."

He nodded, expression unreadable. "Can you handle confidential information?"

"I can keep a secret."

"Work nights?"

"I'm practically nocturnal."

His smirk was quick, and dangerous. "Good." He leaned in slightly. "Last question."

He paused, voice lowering. "A farmer finds a lamp. A genie grants three wishes. The first, for wealth, poisons his village. The second, for health, kills his family. What's his third wish?"

Rochelle stilled. The air thickened.

"To undo the first two," she said finally. "He didn't realize what he had until it was gone."

A flicker crossed Damien's face: satisfaction? Recognition?

"You're hired."

"Wait, what?"

Olivia's chair scraped as she stood. "Damien, there are still candidates-"

"She's the one."

His finality left no room for debate. Olivia's mouth flattened into a line. "I'll start the paperwork."

Rochelle blinked, heart hammering. "When do I start?"

Damien rose. "Now."

He led her to a private elevator, sleek, silent. No buttons. Just a keycard swipe.

"Private elevator?" she asked, trying for casual.

"It helps me move quickly."

He pressed a lone button marked E.

"Totally not pretentious," she teased.

A soft chuckle. "Not enough, you think?"

The elevator opened into a high-tech office-walls steel-gray, chrome details gleaming. At the center stood a bare desk with a laptop.

"Your workspace."

The way he said it "your" made her pulse skip. She nodded. Words felt very unnecessary.

"I'm expecting associates today," he said.

"How can I help you prepare?", Rochelle inquired.

"Quick thinking. Very good. I have a few things I'd need you to get for them." while leading her back to the elevator.

"Shopping? I'm semi-pro," she quipped, grasping for her humor shield. She stepped into the shiny box

"The gifts are chosen, already. They're in the basement. A clerk will assist you." His voice dropped a note. "He's... eccentric. Be cautious."

Before she could ask what that meant, he hit the elevator's 'B' button.

As the doors closed, the spell of Damien's presence lingered. Rochelle exhaled, fingers tightening around her bag.

Whatever lay below wasn't just wrapping paper and wine bottles, she was sure. "Eccentric"... how? she thought.

Shaking it off, she steeled herself for the basement.

She was in now.

No turning back.

---