Walking into the executive floor the next morning didn't feel the same.
It wasn't just about yesterday anymore.
It was like… I knew what kind of place this was now. And somehow, that made everything feel heavier.
I adjusted my bag slightly and kept walking, trying not to look like I was overthinking things—even though I clearly was.
"Freeda."
The voice came from behind me, calm but firm enough to make me stop immediately.
I turned.
She was standing a few steps away, already looking at me like she had been watching for a while.
There was something about her—nothing loud, nothing dramatic—but you could just tell she wasn't someone you wanted to get on the wrong side of.
"This is the executive office," she said. "You're aware of that, right?"
"I am."
Her eyes stayed on me for a second longer than necessary, like she was trying to figure something out.
"I'm Clara," she added. "Mr. Harrison's secretary."
That explained it.
"Come," she said, already turning.
No "please," no pause.
I followed.
Her heels clicked against the floor in a steady rhythm, not fast, not slow—just… controlled. Like she didn't rush for anything, and nothing rushed her either.
The deeper we went into the office, the quieter it got.
Not peaceful quiet.
The kind of quiet that made you feel like you shouldn't make a mistake.
She stopped suddenly, and I almost didn't catch myself in time.
"You made a mistake yesterday."
Straight to the point.
I looked at her. "No, I didn't."
The words came out before I could even think about softening them.
For a second, she just looked at me.
Not angry.
Just… still.
"That's interesting," she said after a moment.
Her tone didn't change, but something about it made my shoulders tense slightly.
"Most people would apologize first," she added.
"I don't apologize for something I didn't do."
Silence again.
This time, it stretched a little longer.
She took a step closer. Not aggressively. Just enough to make me aware of it.
"You're new," she said. "So I'll say this once."
Her voice dropped slightly—not louder, just… heavier.
"This office doesn't run on what you think happened."
She held my gaze.
"It runs on what can be proven."
I didn't say anything.
Because honestly, I knew exactly what she was getting at.
And I also knew arguing further wouldn't help me.
"This isn't a place where you explain yourself," she continued. "It's a place where you fix things before they become problems."
A small pause.
"That's how we do things here."
I nodded slowly. "Understood."
"Good."
Just like that, she turned away, already moving on like the conversation was done.
She pointed toward a desk near the inner office. "You'll be working there."
I followed her gaze.
Not the worst position.
But not exactly comfortable either.
Strategic.
I sat down and placed my hands on the desk, letting out a quiet breath I didn't realize I had been holding.
This place…
It wasn't just stressful.
It was calculated.
Across the room, I caught Becky glancing in my direction.
She quickly looked away when our eyes almost met, but it was enough.
She was watching.
Still.
I shook it off and focused on the files in front of me.
One step at a time.
That's all I needed to do.
Time passed slowly.
Too slowly.
No one spoke much. No one joked.
It was like everyone was doing their job—and silently watching everyone else do theirs too.
I adjusted one of the files and paused for a second.
This wasn't just about getting things right.
It was about not getting anything wrong.
And somehow, that felt even harder.
I glanced up briefly.
Clara was standing not too far away, flipping through a document.
But something told me she wasn't just reading.
She was paying attention.
To everything.
I looked back down at my work, steadying myself.
If this was how things worked here…
Then I'd figure it out.
Because I didn't come this far just to get pushed out.
Not by pressure.
And definitely not by people like Becky.
I straightened slightly in my seat, picking up the next file.
Whatever this place was trying to do—
I wasn't breaking that easily.