My first day stretched endlessly, spilling deep into the night. By the time I corrected every report and organized the documents on Nikolai's desk, my eyes burned with exhaustion and my body ached as if I had been beaten. The office was nearly silent now, the kind of silence that made each small sound unnerving. Only a few dim lights glowed in the hallway. My footsteps and the rustle of papers seemed deafening in the empty space.
I stood before his desk, waiting for him to acknowledge my work.
Nikolai closed the folder slowly, his gaze locking on me with chilling precision. "Better," he said, his voice smooth and cold. "At least you learn when pushed."
I drew in a shaky breath. "You could have just told me what the errors were instead of making me redo everything from scratch."
His lips curved, not in kindness but with the cruel edge of amusement. "Why would I make things easy for you? What is the fun in that? Do you think the world hands out kindness? That is not how this works, Vance."
My hands curled into fists at my sides. "I came here to work, not to be humiliated."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up prey. "And yet you stayed. Why? Was it pride? Or desperation? You should have walked away hours ago."
I bit my lip hard, lifting my chin despite the tremor in my throat. "Because I need this job. My reasons are none of your concern."
Something flickered in his eyes, gone so quickly I almost doubted I had seen it. Then his tone hardened, cutting away any hint of softness. "Leave the reports on my desk and go. Be back tomorrow at six sharp."
"Six?" My eyes widened. "That's two hours earlier than everyone else."
"Do you have a problem with that?"
I held his gaze, my heart pounding, and then forced myself to shake my head. "No."
"Good." He dismissed me with a flick of his hand, like I was nothing more than a servant.
I gathered my bag and walked out, each step dragging heavier than the last. The elevator ride down felt endless, the soft hum of the machinery only feeding the storm of frustration, confusion, and anger boiling in my chest. When I finally stepped into the night air, I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I had been holding all day.
By the time I reached home, my father was asleep on the couch, the television humming faintly beside him. I slipped quietly into my small room, dropped my bag on the floor, and lay on my bed staring at the ceiling until it blurred through unshed tears.
"Why does he hate me so much?" I whispered into the darkness.
Sleep was elusive. I turned on my side, curling beneath the blanket, memories crashing into me like waves. I thought of the boy Nikolai used to be—the laughter we had shared, the way he had protected me, the warmth in his gaze that once felt like safety. I couldn't reconcile that boy with the cold, merciless man who now seemed determined to crush me.
When dawn came, I returned at exactly six, just as he ordered. The office was quiet, the stillness broken only by the low hum of the building's systems. When I entered his office, Nikolai was already there, sharp in his tailored suit, as if he hadn't left at all.
"You are on time," he said without looking up.
"I said I would be," I replied, keeping my voice steady.
He finally glanced at me, his dark eyes unreadable. "Good. You will prepare the meeting schedule for the board, then handle all incoming calls. I expect efficiency."
I nodded and went to my desk. My hands moved quickly over the phone and computer as the hours dragged by. Every time I thought I was catching up, he sent another task my way, relentless in his demands.
At one point, I carried a neatly stacked pile of schedules to his desk. "These are the finalized schedules for next week."
He skimmed through them, then tapped the page sharply. "You missed a detail."
My brows furrowed. "Which one?"
"The board prefers meetings in the late morning, not the afternoon," he said flatly. "You should know that."
My frustration snapped through the careful composure I'd been clinging to. "How could I know that on my second day? You never told me."
Nikolai's expression didn't waver. "If you cannot anticipate simple preferences, then you are not fit for this role."
My lips parted, anger flooding my chest like a burst dam. "You want me to fail. That's why you keep setting traps for me."
He stood, closing the distance between us in a way that made the room feel suddenly smaller. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating. "Failing or succeeding depends on you, Vance. Do not put the blame on me."
I refused to back down. "Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to deserve this?"
For a moment, he just stared at me, his eyes blazing with something volatile, rage, pain, betrayal. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and cutting. "You know what you did. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"
Confusion crashed over me. "I don't. You're punishing me for something I don't even understand."
His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching. "Do not play innocent. I saw enough. You betrayed me once. Do not expect sympathy now."
My breath caught, the room spinning as his words sank in. Before I could speak, he turned away, shutting down the conversation like a slammed door. "Return to your desk. We have work to finish before the board arrives."
The rest of the day crawled by in a haze of tension. He barked orders, shredded my efforts with sharp corrections, and kept me running without pause. By evening, my legs felt weak, my eyes burned, and my head pounded.
As the office emptied, I lingered by his door, aching to say something, anything, to break through the wall between us. But when I looked inside, he sat at his desk, his expression carved from ice, as though I didn't exist.
I walked home in silence, swallowed by the weight of everything unspoken.
That night, lying in bed, my mind replayed every memory of the boy Nikolai had once been: the way he'd made me laugh, the way his presence had once felt like a promise.
Now, staring at the ceiling, I could only wonder how that boy had become this ruthless man.
As my eyes finally drifted shut, my thoughts sank into the past, to the very beginning. To the day I first met Nikolai Valenciaga, back when we were young, and everything had seemed full of hope.
That was where it all began.