I clutched my portfolio tighter as the elevator climbed to the 25th floor. My heart beat a little too fast—not from nerves, but from something electric humming in my veins. This job was my shot. A dream role in one of the city’s most prestigious marketing firms. And after months of rejections, I finally got a yes.

The elevator dinged, and I stepped out into a sleek corridor bathed in warm gold tones and minimalist luxury. Everything screamed power and class.

I didn’t realize then ...