The Rules of Aurenyx
There were rules to surviving Aurenyx Holdings, though none of them were written down.
They existed instead in the way voices lowered near glass offices, in the pauses that lingered before certain names were spoken. They lived in posture, in timing, in knowing when to disappear and when to be just useful enough to remain.
Elara Vance learned those rules quickly.
She learned them her first morning, standing alone in the lobby before sunrise, the city outside still half-asleep. The building loomed above her—steel and glass rising into the dark like a monument to something unforgiving. Even empty, it felt alive, humming faintly beneath her feet, as though aware of its own importance.
She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped inside.
The security guard barely glanced up. That, she learned, was a blessing. At Aurenyx, being noticed was rarely a good thing.
Her desk sat on the twenty-first floor, tucked neatly among other assistants—close enough to executives to hear everything, far enough away to matter to no one. Elara liked it that way. She arranged her space with quiet precision: pens aligned, screen angled just right, schedule color-coded down to the minute.
Control was safety.
By eight-thirty, the floor began to fill. Heels clicked sharply against polished floors. Voices rose and fell in clipped conversations about margins, deadlines, and decisions that would alter lives far beyond these walls. Elara moved among them, invisible but efficient, offering documents, confirming meetings, responding before requests fully formed.
No one asked her opinion.
That was the second rule: Do not speak unless invited.
From her desk, she could see the executive offices lining the hallway like glass cages—transparent yet unreachable. Names etched into doors carried weight. Careers had been built and destroyed behind those walls. Elara memorized them, not out of ambition, but out of caution.
And then there was the office at the very end.
Larger. Darker. Its glass slightly tinted, offering privacy without secrecy. The name on that door carried more power than any other.
Adrienne Blackwell.
Elara had never spoken to her. She had barely seen her in person. Yet Adrienne's presence permeated the building like gravity—subtle, inescapable. Meetings shifted around her schedule. People prepared twice as hard for presentations she might attend. Silence followed in her wake.
Elara had watched her once, from across the floor.
Adrienne Blackwell had exited the elevator without haste, dressed in a tailored suit so precise it felt intentional down to the last seam. She didn't smile. She didn't frown. She simply existed, and the world adjusted accordingly.
Elara remembered thinking that Adrienne looked lonely.
The thought startled her enough that she immediately dismissed it.
Loneliness was not a word associated with people like Adrienne Blackwell.
As weeks passed, Elara settled into routine. She learned who needed coffee exactly seven minutes before meetings, who preferred printed documents despite digital convenience, who grew sharp when stressed. She became excellent at predicting moods, at smoothing chaos before it erupted.
She also learned the third rule: Loyalty is assumed, not rewarded.
Assistants came and went. Executives were promoted, transferred, quietly removed. Aurenyx swallowed people whole and moved on without pause. Elara observed it all from the edges, telling herself she was safe as long as she remained unseen.
Then came the email.
Subject line: Emergency Board Meeting – Tonight
It arrived at 6:47 p.m., just as Elara was packing up to leave. She paused, reading it twice, then a third time. Her pulse quickened. Emergency meetings meant something had gone wrong—something big.
By nine, the twenty-third floor buzzed with tension. Executives gathered around the long boardroom table, voices tight, faces drawn. Elara took her seat along the wall with the other assistants, notebook in hand, spine straight.
She told herself she was just an observer.
The meeting unraveled quickly. A key executive was missing. Calls went unanswered. Projections fell apart under scrutiny. Frustration thickened the air, pressing against Elara's chest.
Then the question came.
It was simple. Direct. Dangerous.
And no one answered it.
Elara felt the silence stretch, unbearable. She knew the answer. She had known it all evening, watching the numbers, connecting dots no one wanted to acknowledge.
Her heart pounded. The rules screamed at her to stay seated.
She stood anyway.
In that moment, Elara broke the first rule of Aurenyx Holdings.
And somewhere, behind tinted glass at the end of the hall, Adrienne Blackwell noticed.