The room was bathed in golden sunlight, streaming through half-open curtains and painting the walls with warmth. Olivia lay cocooned under her blanket, savoring the last few minutes of sleep, the soft morning light barely touching her face.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed sharply on the bedside table, cutting through the calm. Still wrapped in the folds of her blanket, she fumbled for it.
"Ugh… five more minutes," she mumbled, pressing the phone to her ear.
But then her eyes caught the screen. 8:42 a.m.
A jolt of panic surged through her. She threw the blanket off in a dramatic flail, her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she shot upright.
"I'm late! I'm so late!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the sunlit room. Her heart raced, and adrenaline flooded her veins as she scrambled out of bed, knocking over a mug and a stack of notebooks in her rush.
The sunlight danced across the floor, mocking her frantic energy, highlighting the chaos of a morning gone terribly wrong. Today was already starting at full speed, and there was no turning back.
Today wasn't just any day—it was the day she'd been waiting for: her interview at Harrington Global Corporation, one of the most powerful and prestigious companies in the world.
She yanked open her wardrobe, tossing aside a half-wrinkled blouse. Her hands trembled slightly as she found the crisp, ivory shirt she had carefully planned last night. Pairing it with a sleek black pencil skirt, she barely had time to smooth out the creases before grabbing her heels.
The apartment was a whirlwind of movement. Coffee sloshed dangerously in a travel mug, her phone buzzed with reminders, and papers threatened to topple off the table. With a last frantic glance at the clock—8:57 a.m.—she realized she had less than an hour to make it across town.
Sliding into her heels with a practiced hop, she dashed toward the door, fumbling for her bag. Keys, wallet, portfolio—everything jostled together as she sprinted down the hallway. The city outside glimmered in the morning sun, traffic already humming with life. Elara's pulse kept pace with the bustling streets as she weaved through the crowd, mentally rehearsing her answers, her posture, her tone.
She couldn't afford a single misstep. Every moment counted. Every glance mattered. The towering glass façade of Harrington Global Corporation loomed in the distance, and with it, the possibility of her dreams taking shape—or shattering entirely.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and whispered to herself:
"Okay, Olivia. This is it. You've got this."
With the city buzzing around her, she moved faster, every step carrying her closer to the interview that could change her life forever.
Olivia pushed through the revolving doors of Harrington Global Corporation, the cold morning air still clinging to her clothes. The moment she stepped inside, the world changed — the lobby stretched upward like a cathedral made of glass and chrome, the floor polished enough to reflect her panic-stricken face.
She was late.
Too late.
Her interview — for the manager's office on the top floor — had already begun.
Without wasting a second, she tightened her grip on her folder and ran. Her heels clicked like frantic drumbeats as she shot past the reception desk. A few employees glanced up from their tablets, eyebrows rising as she dashed across the marble floor.
"Come on… come on…" she muttered, scanning for the elevators.
There — at the end of the long hallway, gleaming silver doors waited like the gateway to her future.
She broke into a full sprint.
Her bag slid off her shoulder, her hair bounced wildly, but she didn't stop. The elevator lights blinked, threatening to close.
"Hold the door!" Olivia gasped, her voice echoing through the lobby.
Someone inside turned their head. A hand reached out, pressing the "Open" button. The doors paused.
Olivia slid inside at the last second, breathless, heart pounding.
"Top floor," she managed to say, pressing the button with a trembling finger.
The doors closed with a soft ding, sealing her inside as the elevator began to rise.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, releasing Olivia into the quiet, carpeted corridor of the top floor. The air felt different here — colder, quieter, heavier — like ambition itself lived in these walls.
But what froze her wasn't the atmosphere.
It was the crowd.
Nearly fifteen people sat lined up along both sides of the hallway — all dressed sharply, all holding files, all clearly here for the same interview. Some looked calm, some whispered last-minute rehearsals, and a few glanced up at her with a mix of curiosity and competition.
Olivia's stomach tightened.
Great. Just great.
Before she could even gather her breath, the door to the Manager's room opened, and a woman in a navy-blue blazer stepped out with a clipboard.
Her eyes skimmed down the list.
"Olivia Watson? Olivia?"
Olivia's heart stumbled. Her throat went dry.
People turned.
She felt their eyes on her — judging, expecting.
Her hands grew cold.
Her pulse hammered in her ears.
"Yes— yes, I'm here," she said, stepping forward even though her legs felt like jelly.
The woman gave her a quick, tight smile.
"You're next. Please proceed."
Olivia swallowed hard. She didn't want to show fear — not now, not here. But panic bubbled in her chest like it wanted to escape.
She took a deep breath.
And then, without another second of hesitation, she pushed the door open and stepped into the Manager's room.
The door clicked shut behind her.
As Olivia stepped inside, the door closed behind her with a quiet thud, sealing her away from the anxious crowd outside. Her palms were still damp, her heartbeat racing, but she forced herself to stand straight.
The Manager's office was larger than she expected — modern, perfectly organized, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the entire city. Sunlight spilled across the sleek white desk and the polished wooden floor.
Behind the desk sat Mr. Adrian Cole, the Training Manager of Harrington Global Corporation — the man in charge of selecting the new batch of trainees.
He looked up as she entered.
Sharp suit. Sharp eyes. Sharp posture.
But there was something calm in his expression — controlled, observant, the kind of man who could read a person in seconds.
"You must be Olivia Watson," he said, his voice steady, almost unreadable.
"Yes, sir," she replied, forcing her voice not to shake.
"You're here for the Trainee Program interview, correct?"
"Yes."
He nodded once, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.
"Please, have a seat."
Olivia walked forward carefully, each step echoing her nerves, and sat down. She tried to breathe normally, but excitement and terror twisted together in her stomach.
Mr. Cole glanced down at her résumé, then back at her.
"Before we begin," he said softly, "you seem a bit… breathless. Did you rush to get here?"
Olivia froze.
Her morning flashed in her mind — the late alarm, the running, the elevator, the panic.
She opened her mouth, unsure whether to lie or tell the truth.
Time moved strangely inside the Manager's room — sometimes too fast, sometimes painfully slow. Olivia answered every question with all the confidence she could gather, even when her hands trembled under the table.
And finally… it was done.
The interview wrapped up.
Mr. Adrian Cole closed her file, gave a polite nod, and said only one thing:
"Thank you, Olivia. You may return to the waiting area."
She stepped out with a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and uncertainty twisting inside her chest.
The hallway was quieter now. A few candidates waited with nervous smiles, others paced back and forth rehearsing answers under their breath. Olivia took a seat, inhaling deeply, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
After a few minutes, the door to the manager's office opened again.
The woman in the navy-blue blazer stepped out — clipboard still in hand, expression firm but professional. Everyone immediately straightened, eyes fixed on her.
She cleared her throat.
"Attention, everyone.
The trainee interview session for today is officially completed."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the candidates.
She continued in her crisp, practiced tone:
"Your interview results will be forwarded to your registered email within two days. Please keep your phones active and check your inbox regularly."
Olivia swallowed. Two days felt like two years.
The woman gave a small nod.
"You may all leave now. Thank you."
Just like that, the tension broke.
People stood up, some sighing with relief, others whispering excited guesses about their performance. Olivia quietly picked up her bag, her heart still heavy with uncertainty.
As she walked toward the elevator, she wondered—
Did she do enough?
While the candidates filed out of the top floor, the tension leaving the hallway, another room—one that none of them knew existed—remained dimly lit behind a frosted glass wall.
Inside, the only glow came from a large monitor filled with tiny surveillance screens:
the lobby…
the elevator…
the hallway of candidates…
and the manager's office.
A man sat in front of the screen, elbows on the desk, fingers lightly touching his lips.
He had an air of authority—calm, sharp, quietly dangerous.
Not the training manager.
Someone higher.
His eyes followed one camera in particular.
The one showing Olivia walking toward the elevator with her folder clutched to her chest, her expression a mix of fear and hope.
A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
He leaned closer to the screen, his voice low, almost amused as he whispered her name—
"Olivia…"
He said it again, slower this time, tasting the sound of it.
"Olivia."
His eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued.
He tapped his finger on the desk thoughtfully.
"Let's see what you become," he murmured, the smirk growing.
Then he clicked a key.
Her profile appeared on the screen—details from her résumé, interview footage, a freeze-frame of her nervous smile.
"Interesting," he whispered.
Outside, Olivia stepped into the elevator, completely unaware that someone inside Harrington Global Corporation was already watching her…
Already choosing her.
Already planning something.