Lila Monroe had one rule when starting a new job: Ignore the ghosts.
It wasn't a hard rule to follow, in theory. Most jobs didn't come with the added burden of being haunted by nosy, lingering spirits who refused to retire—even after death.
But as she stepped into the gleaming marble lobby of Sterling & Co., trying not to sweat through her blouse, she could already feel that rule starting to slip.
The building looked expensive, like everything in it might charge her rent just for breathing near it—spotless white floors, polished glass, soft piano music playing somewhere from nowhere.
And of course, a ghost.
"First day, huh?" asked a pudgy, balding spirit in a checkered vest who floated beside her like a clingy coworker. "You look nervous. Don't worry, it's just your job, your livelihood, and possibly your sanity on the line. Name's Mr. Hawkins, by the way—former accounts manager, current afterlife ambassador to the overly ambitious."
Lila didn't look at him. Eye contact only encouraged them.
The ghost leaned closer. "Seriously, are you sweating through that blouse already? Bold move. You know this place has more glass than a luxury aquarium, right? Everyone sees everything."
"I'd be nervous too," he continued. "The last secretary left mid-shift. Said the CEO's glare gave her a nosebleed. Poor thing. Bled on the breakroom carpet."
"Don't do this," Lila whispered out of the side of her mouth. "Not today."
The receptionist behind the front desk blinked. "Sorry? Did you say something?"
Lila quickly smiled. "Oh! Just... uh... reciting my morning affirmation. You know. Positive mindset. 'You got this, Lila. You are calm. You are confident. You will not scream at invisible people.' That sort of thing."
The receptionist paused, visibly unsure if this was charming or unhinged. "Top floor. Mr. Sterling is expecting you."
Lila nodded, face heating. She tightened her grip on her bag and headed toward the elevator.
Victor Sterling—her new boss. CEO. Ruthless. Emotionless. Known throughout the corporate world for firing someone once because they used Comic Sans in a memo.
In other words: the worst place to accidentally talk to a ghost.
The ghost trailed after her, bobbing through the lobby wall like it was a beaded curtain.
"I hope you last longer than the last girl," he added. "Sterling has zero tolerance for noise, lateness, and apparently, perfume. You wearing perfume?"
Lila ignored him, stabbing the elevator button like it had personally offended her.
He continued anyway, now circling her head like an annoying parrot. "And for the record, it was lavender-scented lotion. She didn't even spray anything. One whiff, and boom—she was reassigned to the basement."
The elevator dinged open. Lila stepped inside and let out a breath. Alone. Thank God.
But just as the doors began to close, a hand reached through the gap—stopping them.
A man stepped in.
And suddenly, the elevator felt too small.
Victor Sterling.
He didn't look at her. He didn't need to. His presence filled the space like cold air conditioning and judgment.
He was tall. Sharp suit. No smile. His features looked carved, like someone tried to create "CEO" in a lab and succeeded terrifyingly well.
He pressed the top-floor button and stood silently.
The ghost floated behind him, peeking over Lila's shoulder. "Yep. That's him. Stone face. No soul. No snacks in his office either—total red flag."
She stared ahead, jaw clenched, willing her eyes to stay locked on the floor number display.
"Miss Monroe," Victor said suddenly, not turning his head.
Her heart dropped into her shoes. "Yes?"
"You were muttering in the lobby. Is that a habit?"
Crap. Double crap. Maybe triple.
She cleared her throat. "Just... pep talk. You know. First day nerves. Mind over matter and all that."
He said nothing.
The silence stretched so thin it was practically transparent—just like the ghost currently inspecting the elevator panel with great suspicion.
Behind them, the ghost muttered, "If you press 13, the elevator skips it. Superstitious nonsense, if you ask me. I worked in finance, not Hogwarts."
Victor's gaze shifted slightly toward her. "I expect professionalism. No distractions. No strange behavior."
"Understood," she said, her voice slightly too high.
The elevator dinged open.
Victor stepped out without looking back. Lila followed, internally screaming.
The executive floor looked like something from a sci-fi movie: chrome finishes, massive windows, clean lines, and an overall air of "don't touch anything."
Victor gestured to a sleek desk directly outside his office door. "This is your station. Your tasks will be emailed. I do not repeat myself."
"Right. Got it," Lila said, setting her bag down.
The ghost hovered next to the chair, peering down. "Huh. They moved the desk. Used to be closer to the window. Bad for lighting, though—washed out the printer display. Also, you've got a chair with a wobbly wheel. Guess they like hazing the new hire."
"Please stop talking," she hissed under her breath, eyes darting toward Victor's door.
The ghost ignored her and floated lazily through the filing cabinet. "If you need pens, second drawer. Don't bother with the third. Just stale gum and expired cough drops."
Moments later, the office door clicked open again. Victor stepped out, holding a sleek black folder.
Lila jumped, knocking her pen holder to the floor. Pens clattered everywhere.
Victor stared at her. "Is there a reason you're throwing office supplies?"
She scrambled to pick them up. "Nope! Just testing gravity. It still works. Ten out of ten."
He blinked. Once. Like his face was considering the idea of emotion but declined politely.
Lila gave him a sheepish smile. He didn't return it. Just set the folder on her desk.
"I don't like noise. If you're easily startled, I suggest learning to anticipate footsteps."
Then he turned and walked back into his office.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Lila let out a breath like she'd been holding it underwater.
The ghost floated beside her, arms crossed. "Told you he was intense. But hey, look on the bright side—you didn't get fired. Yet."
Lila dropped her forehead to her desk.
"This job is going to kill me," she muttered into the fake wood.
"Don't be dramatic," the ghost said. "You'll probably just develop a nervous twitch and chronic caffeine dependence."
"Comforting."
He shrugged. "Hey, if it helps, you're already doing better than the last one. She cried in the bathroom twice before lunch."
"Awesome," Lila sighed. "High bar."
The ghost patted the air above her head. "Welcome to Sterling & Co., kiddo. You're gonna need thicker skin. And maybe earplugs. Possibly an exorcist."
And it was only Monday.