Tina was halfway through her second slice of cheesecake when her phone rang. The screen lit up with a name that instantly turned the sweet into ash on her tongue.

Luke Lawson.

On a Saturday evening.

She glanced at the clock. 7:43 p.m.

Sophie, her best friend and room mate, raised a brow from across the kitchen island. “Don’t tell me it’s him.”

Tina didn’t answer. She just slid off the barstool and answered the call.

“Hello?”

Luke’s voice came through, low and clipped. “There’s an issue with Professor Dalton’s recording.”

Tina pinched the bridge of her nose. “I confirmed everything yesterday. Studio B was booked. The recording team—”

“There was a miscommunication. They’re missing the intro segment, and Dalton’s flying out Monday morning. I need you to come in tomorrow and coordinate a re-recording.”

“Tomorrow?” Tina blinked. “It’s Sunday.”

“That’s correct,” he said, as if her confusion was unreasonable. “We’re already behind schedule, and I won’t tolerate further delays.”

“I’ve made plans,” she said carefully. “I have a personal commitment for tomorrow.”

A pause. Barely a breath.

“This is an emergency, Tina,” he said finally. “You need to prioritize the Academy’s needs. I expect you at the office by ten.”

The line went dead.

Tina stared at her phone like it had personally betrayed her.

She walked back to the kitchen in a daze.

“Let me guess,” Sophie said, popping a grape into her mouth. “Lucifer strikes again.”

Tina gave her a look.

Sophie grinned. “What? He is your Lucifer, isn’t he? You even call him that on your blog.”

Tina let out a slow breath and slumped into her chair. “He wants me in the office tomorrow. Emergency recording issue.”

“Of course he does.” Sophie threw her hands up. “Why wouldn’t the soulless prince of privilege need your unpaid weekend labor?”

Tina gave her a tired smile. “It’s not unpaid.”

“Right. Minimum wage for maximum stress. It’s theft with extra steps.”

Tina didn’t laugh. Not this time.

She stared at the cakes on the plate in front of her, appetite gone. Her head still ached faintly from yesterday’s chaos. Her shoulders hadn't stopped aching since the moment Jonah stormed out.

“Why don’t you just quit?” Sophie asked, voice softer now. “Seriously, Tina. The man treats you like an emotional punching bag. It’s not worth your sanity.”

Tina was quiet for a long moment. She glanced out the kitchen window. The city lights glittered in the distance, warm and unreachable.

“I can’t,” she said finally.

Sophie folded her arms. “Why not?”

“Because…” Tina hesitated, then whispered, “I still want to be a tutor at the Academy.”

Sophie’s face softened, but she didn’t look convinced. “You mean you still believe Lucifer is going to give you that promotion? After the way he humiliated you in front of the marketing team? After he blamed you for Dr. Laird’s schedule?”

“I’m not saying he’ll hand it to me,” Tina said, voice low. “But the next interview round is in four weeks. I’ve worked so hard to get this far. If I quit now, everything I’ve endured would’ve been for nothing.”

“You’re enduring hell,” Sophie said gently. “Is that worth a maybe?”

Tina closed her eyes. The ache behind them pulsed harder.

She remembered the first time she’d stepped into the Academy’s gleaming halls. Her heart had been full of hope, her resume clutched like a golden ticket. She wanted to teach. To mentor. To help students discover their voices the way a long-ago teacher once helped her find hers. She didn’t pass the interview because of better experienced applicants. Fortunately, she was offered the vacant secretary position and a promise of being part of the next interview.

But somewhere between photocopying reports and scrambling to fix things she never broke, that dream had started to fray.

“I can’t walk away,” Tina said softly. “Not yet.”

Sophie sighed, brushing a crumb from the counter. “Then at least don’t let him break you. Promise me that.”

Tina nodded, but she didn’t feel strong enough to make promises. Not now.

She rose from the stool and started collecting the plates, needing something to do with her hands.

Behind her, Sophie called out, “You know, if I were you, I’d tell your blog readers the truth. Let them know how much Lucifer really demands. A Sunday call? That’s workplace terrorism.”

Tina laughed despite herself. “Maybe I will.”

“Good. Let the world see how the Devil wears a tailored suit.”

Tina smiled, but the fatigue in her bones hadn’t lifted.

Her inbox was already filling with emails—Luke’s way of preparing for the Sunday “emergency.” There were new briefing documents, updated studio availability sheets, even a revised recording script.

She sat down at her desk, cracked her knuckles, and did what she always did: she complied.

She worked until 1 a.m., then opened her blog.

Surviving the Corporate Jungle.

She clicked New Post.

“When does a job stop being a job and start being a form of quiet captivity?

I was told once that loyalty means showing up—even on weekends, even when your plans don’t matter. But what if showing up means slowly erasing the parts of yourself that still feel?

Tomorrow’s Sunday. I was supposed to spend it with someone who makes me laugh. Instead, Lucifer wants me at work, fixing a problem I didn’t cause.

The thing is… I’m not even mad anymore.

I’m just tired. But I still believe in the dream.

That, or I’ve just gotten really good at surviving.”

She clicked Post and closed the tab.

Her phone buzzed a few minutes later with a notification.

“Careful, Tina. Even dreams can turn into traps.”

Her stomach dropped.

Not again.

She stared at the screen, the air suddenly colder.

The same anonymous message from before.

Someone knew her name.

Her real name.

Her eyes scanned the blog settings. Her account was locked. Private email. No visible personal details. No linked socials.

So how?

She rubbed her temples, the ache flaring to life again.

Sophie had called him Lucifer as a joke.

But maybe the Devil really did read the fine print.