The black car slid to a halt in front of Blackwood Enterprises, a towering glass fortress that reflected the grey morning sky. 

The building stood like a blade against the clouds, clean, sharp, unapologetically dominant.

The back door opened, and I stepped out.

No one spoke.

Heads turned as I crossed the entrance plaza, ankle-length navy coat brushing against my heels, lips painted in a perfect matte wine, not a hair out of place. 

I didn't smile. I never did.

My expression was calm, unreadable, my eyes sharp and dark like a loaded gun in a velvet case.

"Ms. Blackwood, morning!" came a familiar voice.

My assistant, Lara, practically stumbled down the lobby steps, already juggling a tablet, phone, and a leather folder. 

She reached me, slightly breathless, her high ponytail swaying like it was trying to keep up.

"I've forwarded the updated agenda to your email."

Lara said, falling into step beside me, matching my long, deliberate strides.

"Legal already confirmed the NDA package for the tech acquisition. And..."

 She held out her hands, "May I take your coat and bag, ma'am?"

I handed over my coat with a graceful sweep of my shoulders, my handbag following with practiced ease.

 Lara nearly buckled under the weight.

"Oh, and about the secretary," 

Lara added quickly, lowering her voice as we entered the elevator.

I didn't respond.

"We assigned a new one. HR sent over the file this morning. There wasn't time to get your approval in advance, but it's temporary, until you choose a permanent replacement."

Silence.

The elevator dinged softly. We stepped into the top floor.

My heels tapped steadily on the marble floor as I walked toward my office. 

Staff along the hallway froze, straightened, or quietly disappeared into other rooms.

 My presence always swept through the space like a tide of cold water.

Lara cleared her throat nervously.

"Would you like to see his résumé before he arrives?"

"No."

I stopped just outside my office door and turned to face Lara for the first time.

"I don't care about paperwork," I said smoothly, my voice low and velvety. 

"I care about performance. If he's competent, I won't fire him."

"And if he's not?" Lara asked.

My lips curved, not a smile. But something darker.

"Then he won't survive the week."

With that, I turned and entered her office, the glass doors shutting behind me with a soft hiss.

Outside, Lara exhaled slowly, clutching my coat and bag like sacred relics.

Downstairs, Rhys Morgan had just stepped out of a taxi, his hands in the pockets of a tailored black coat, his expression unreadable.

He was early.