Claire’s POV

Two weeks later on a Monday, the time was 6:00 AM and I woke quickly that morning with the muffled sounds of the city filtering through the apartment’s thin walls. A little light came in through the curtains. I remained in bed, frozen, gripping the edge of my duvet cover as if it were all that would keep me safe today. I had a brief vision of a new beginning, today was the first day of the rest of my life, and it begins at Ashford Company. .

Now it was 6:15 AM and I slowly lifted myself into a sitting position with great difficulty. Only one outfit was draped over the door to my closet. The outfit was a black blazer and skirt with a neat white blouse. This is what I plan to wear to my new job.

I prepared, slowly, as if I were drifting through a dream. Suddenly, I remember Professor Carter’s admonitions, Ethan’s gaze warning me to tread gently, Damian’s cryptic commentary, and Elise’s cool little voice telling me I was a trespasser in their world.

The taste of my coffee was more awakening than I wished. Somehow I toasted some bread and gazed at my diploma on the desk.

I began to button my blouse. I was shaking and for one second I could feel Damian’s hand from the party, hot against my back as we swayed in the lights. I closed my eyes and attempted to concentrate but all I thought about was my ambition because it was clear that Damian wanted more.

There was a black car waiting when I stepped outside. It was the same man from the art gallery who was driving, he hardly had eye contact with me.

“Ms. Aldridge,” he said in a bored tone as he stood holding open the passenger door.

After a moment I feel like a Queen in Damian’s world, I attempt to say something, and finally murmur “Good morning” as I carry myself into the seat. The city swept by outside my window and Ashford Tower loomed ahead.

When the car pulled into the driveway, people ran in all directions; stalwart men in pressed suits hurried by, women swiveled quickly down the halls with high heels clicking.

Minutes later I reach for my bag as soon as we reached Ashford Real Estate Building and the driver said, “Good luck, Ms. Aldridge.” He said it like he meant it, though when I looked back to thank him he was already focusing on his phone.

I inhaled deeply and walked in to become a little taller. It was already 7:45 am and the marble floors inside made me feel like I was in a palace and the ceiling was higher than any place I had ever been. The walls were painted with the most expensive art I could think of while a large gold lion’s head hovered above the reception desk in the rear.

“Can I help you? Excuse me?” a woman said as I approached the desk.

Two of the women there were dressed to kill. They smiled, but it seemed artificial.

“Name?” I was asked and she didn't look at me.

“Claire Aldridge. Mr. Ashford’s personal assistant.”

They stopped what they were doing and looked up as though they knew something. One of them pushed a button and in a cordial voice announced, “Ms. Aldridge, welcome. Mr. Ashford is expecting you. 39 floor.”

The elevator doors were gleaming, the numbers above them lit. I waited and counted my breaths to fend off excessive nerves.

A young, suited man entered behind me. His beard was neat and his tie was blue. He inclined his head slightly.

“You’re the new Ashford PA?”

“Yup.”

“Best of luck. You’ll need it,” was all he said, without a smile.

We rode up the elevator in silence. I got the higher numbers, each one inching me nearer to what this job would become for me.

The 39th floor seemed busy. The glass walls exposed the entirety of the city and there was movement among the people in the conference room, and Marcus was at the center of it all, directing people where to go.

He came over when he saw me. “Claire. Don’t let the storm disconcert you. Let me get you settled in.”

He directed me to my new office. The door plaque read “Personal Assistant.” My desk was enormous. Books lined the shelves, and there was a window overlooking it all.

Marcus handed me a file with the essentials. “Your badge. Email passwords. Instructions for coffee machine. Don’t lose those.”

I nodded and began to thumb through them. I was, but it was all scary as well.

“Damian, nine o’clock. Jason and Elise will be around soon; they’re late most days. Senior Staff begin meetings soon, you'll be contacted. IT will get you connected.” His eyebrow arched. “Questions?”

“Just a million,” I said, without even knowing how low my voice was.

He nearly smiled. “It’ll pass. You’re here because Damian believes in you. Never let anyone tell you different”.

Marcus abandoned me. I heard the muted voices in the hallway, the click of heels, someone laughing way down the hall.

I turned on my laptop. The systems were also new and complex. Tasks, events, meetings, reminders, a list of such things scattered across the screen. Damian’s name was on my mind. I wasn’t thinking of him, but thinking about what it must be like to work for someone who appeared so bright yet might have a hidden agenda. I didn't care at that moment.

At 8:45 AM, a knock came at the door. Jason entered. He was tall, with light hair and his suit seemed smarter now than it had at the party.

“Claire…” he said; in a pleasant tone. “Getting settled?”

“Maybe so.”

He surveyed his surroundings and took it all in. “Father can...be quite demanding. Don’t forget, loyalty has levels. Elise…She’ll try you. Don’t take it personally.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I replied, striving to be courteous and yet, eavesdropping on his warning.

He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “You have to understand-people are watching you, Claire. Some wish for you to fail. Marcus is a friend, but not everybody can be trusted.”

I made myself sit up straight. “I’m comfortable being an outsider.”

He stared at me with a strange light in his eye. “Why?”

The door opened again, and Elise walked in. She wore a navy suit, and she looked as serious as she was at the party.

“Jason, already interfering?” she asked, in a thin, icy voice.

Jason took a step back. Elise looked at me for a few seconds.

“You made an impact. The gala from yesterday. PA of father. Let’s see you last a week.”

She stung, but I wouldn’t let her see it. “I plan to.”

She sized me up like I was weak. “Time will tell.”

She pivoted out, heels clicking on the floor.

“Right!”, Jason said, grinning. “You get used to it.”

Then he left as well, and I was by myself. My heart pounded too fast in my heart. It was a minefield.

Around 9:15 Am, everything changed. I saw him through the glass and Damian was here in a gray suit and he filled the room. Light glinted off his gold cufflinks. He pointed to my desk.

15 minutes later, I went to his office to say hello to my new boss.

“Claire. Welcome”.

“Thanks, Damian.”

He told me to sit down and gestured for me to write. “It’s the work of my life. You will find layers, and secrets; good and bad. Trust is something you develop. There’s a reason I chose you.”

I wrote as quickly as possible, trying to avoid getting nervous. He assigned me my initial projects. I needed to deal with his emails, speak to Marcus, write up some early reports and prep for the strategy meeting tomorrow.

“Fail fast and learn fast. Trust even less. Curiosity is good, but don’t get yourself in trouble.” He stared at me as if he was looking at a painting and trying to find a flaw.

I coughed. “I’m here. I will try my best.”

He rose and seemed satisfied. “Coffee is the only addiction I permit here. Have yours. And Claire, don’t be cowed by the family politics.”

I left his office and shut the glass door.

The following hours flew by. There were conference calls, online trainings and a mountain of files. I also attempted to glean as much information about Damian’s company as I could, reading everything I could find, emails, old notes, and blueprints for projects.

Every now and then somebody would come by. HR had more paperwork for me, IT reset my passwords, and Marcus left a few more notes. Each of them had the same questioning expression in their face: Who is she? Does she fit in? Will she take a risk?

By noon, my brain was full of names and facts. I headed for the break room and Jason stood at the window, phone pressed to his ear, eyes unfocused.

He turned his gaze toward me. “First day blues?”

“Too much information.” I replied

He added, “You’ve chosen the right company for that. Did Elise say anything else?”

“She was a direct threat to my existence,” I thought within me..

He thought it was funny and smirked. “Standard Ashford orientation.”

He pocketed his phone. “Need advice?”

I paused and then nodded. “I’m not choosy, I’ll have whatever I can get.”

“Don’t let Elise box you in. She’ll make any weakness into poison. Don’t let Marcus drive you like a nail. And never ever let father see you flinch.”

I nodded, and I recalled it all.

There was a pause and then he walked away to join the raucous conversation happening not too far away.

I had lunch in the sunny break room, where I ordered a salad and more coffee. I was being stared at. Some seemed interested but for some, the suspicion was hardly concealed.

When I returned to my office, there was a letter from Damian, requesting a complete research brief on a real estate development project, Southbank. It was a big deal in the company and everyone seemed concerned about it.

I read reports and news stories. There was zoning, and environmental, and sales projections, and issues from the past. My notebook soon filled because I was trying to make sense of it all.

Jason showed up after a while. “Need a hand?”

“I believe I understand.”

For a moment he appeared almost kind. “You’ll do fine. If you require assistance, call. But remember do not trust easily.”

Then he left.

I wrote two pages by four o’clock. They were scrappy but resolute.

At 5 PM, Damian and the majority of people had departed. The corridors outside my office were empty and dark and as I was wrapping up my summary for Damian, I spotted something on my desk.

The envelope was thick. No name, no stamp, only the Ashford lion, printed in gold.

I could feel my heart pounding. Was this normal on your first day? Or as a threat?

I was trembling as I opened it. Inside was one card and a photograph.

On the card, it said:

There are doors whose opening can never be a closing. Trust no one, not even what you see.

The photo showed Damian caught in a heated argument with two of the executives. Their faces were obscured in shadow. Jason was at the back; his expression was impossible to decipher.

Below it, someone had written in clean letters:

You are watched. The decisions made here have repercussions for years. A few can even kill you.

I turned to face the almost vacant hall. I felt my skin prick and wondered; who was it that left this behind?

I placed the card and photo in my planner, shut my laptop, and stood up; I don’t know who to trust anymore.

The silence was deafening. The girl looking back at me in the glass did not resemble any ordinary girl. I appeared more like the target, ensnared in a subworld.

I reached for my phone to text Ethan, but thought better of it. I felt isolated and as though there was no one else to do anything. Not even Ethan who I had betrayed and at that moment I felt bad.

Footsteps approached down the hall. They were quick but they disappeared again.