Elizabeth's pov
The next morning starts the same way: I wake early, stare at the ceiling for a few seconds while my brain boots up, and brace myself for the day ahead. Except something feels different—like a soft weight pressing behind my ribs. Anticipation, maybe. Or nerves.
Friday is creeping closer, and even though I keep telling myself that meeting Liam Smith is just another task on my calendar, my mind refuses to let it slide into "routine." People don't talk about him like he's another CEO. They talk about him like a storm.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head downstairs. Massie is already at the counter frosting pastries with her usual calm focus.
"You're up early again," she says without turning around.
"So are you," I reply.
She laughs lightly. "Some of us have excuses."
I grab a piece of toast from a plate she's left out for me. Rose appears a minute later, hair in a bun that's somehow both messy and intentional.
"You look tired," she says bluntly.
"Good morning to you too."
Rose shrugs. "I'm just saying. You didn't sleep, did you?"
I hesitate, then sigh. "Not much."
"Is this about your meeting with that scary CEO guy?"
I blink. "How did you hear about that?"
"Twitter," she says. "Also Jenna from your office posted something on her story about 'Friday's corporate battle.' I assumed it meant something serious."
I groan. "Jenna is dramatic."
"And you're avoiding the question," Rose says, pointing at me with a spoon.
"I'm not scared," I insist. "Just… cautious."
Rose smirks like she knows me far too well. "Sure."
Massie cuts in gently. "Whoever this man is, he's still just a person, Lizzie."
"People are the ones who cause the most trouble," I mutter.
Massie raises a brow. "Well, he can't be worse than that nightmare supervisor you had at the grocery store when you were seventeen."
A laugh escapes me. "He made us weigh grapes like they were diamonds."
"All men who take themselves too seriously are the same," she says.
I'm not convinced, but I don't argue. Instead, I finish my toast, grab my bag again, and hug them both before leaving.
At the bus stop, the weather is warm enough that the air smells faintly like baked pavement. I find a spot on the bench and pull out my phone to skim through my tasks for the day.
Emails. Meetings. A site visit. And a check-in with Leonard about Friday's presentation.
Nothing unusual. Nothing terrifying.
Yet my chest tightens when I think of Liam Smith sitting across from me, dissecting everything I've prepared. Or worst-case scenario: dismissing me without letting me speak. I've met people like that. They look right through you like you're air. It's not anger that hurts—it's invisibility.
The bus arrives. I climb on and take my usual seat near the back. A man a few rows ahead is watching a news video, and even though I'm not trying to snoop, my eyes catch the headline:
"Global Legacy Inc. Expands Again Under CEO Liam Smith."
Great. I can't even escape him on my commute.
I look away and watch the city roll by instead—streets lined with small shops, mothers walking their kids to school, vendors setting out fruit baskets. The ordinary parts of life I cling to because they make the world feel softer.
By the time I get to work, I've talked myself into a version of calm that will at least get me through the morning.
Inside, the office buzzes with a familiar energy. Phones ringing, heels clicking, printers humming. The routine anchors me. I slip into my role like it's a second skin.
Leonard isn't in yet, which gives me a few peaceful minutes to tidy my desk and open my inbox. I'm halfway through replying to a contractor when Leonard strides in with purpose.
He spots me immediately. "Elizabeth. Good. Come with me."
I stand, grab my notebook, and follow him into his office.
He closes the door behind us. "We need to talk about Friday."
I nod. "I assumed we would."
He gestures for me to sit, then stays standing, pacing a little. "Liam Smith has a reputation, but he's not irrational. He likes efficiency. Precision. And he dislikes small talk."
"That's fine," I say. "I wasn't planning on entertaining him with stories of my personal life."
Leonard gives me a pointed look. "Be serious."
"I am."
"Elizabeth, this meeting matters. Starlight needs this collaboration. And I need you to keep me organized, focused, and—"
"Human?" I offer.
He cracks a smile. "Something like that."
I nod, absorbing everything. "I'll have all the updated materials ready by tonight."
"Good. And Elizabeth?"
"Yes?"
He hesitates, studying me. "Don't let him intimidate you. You're better than you think you are."
The compliment hits harder than I expect. "Thank you," I say quietly.
"Now go," he says, waving his hand. "I'm already running behind."
I leave his office with my heartbeat steady but louder than before.
Around noon, I head to the break room for a quick lunch, but I barely get three bites in before Jenna from marketing plops into the seat across from me.
"So," she says, leaning in like she's delivering gossip. "Is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"That you're meeting Liam Smith on Friday."
I blink. "Who told you that?"
"Please," she scoffs. "News travels faster than Wi-Fi around here."
I sigh. "Yes, it's true."
She gasps like I announced I'm meeting a dragon. "Are you scared?"
"No."
She gives me a look that says she doesn't believe a word.
"I'm not," I add, more firmly.
Jenna shakes her head dramatically. "Well, you should be. My cousin's friend's girlfriend works at Global Legacy's Chicago branch and she said—"
I hold up a hand. "I don't need horror stories right now."
"Fine," she says, deflating a little. "But if he fires Leonard or something, I am absolutely moving to Canada."
I laugh despite myself. "Go back to work, Jenna."
She winks and leaves, her hair swishing behind her like she's in a shampoo commercial.
I finish my lunch quickly and return to my desk, hoping the rest of the afternoon will be quiet.
It isn't.
The next few hours hit me like a wave:
A contractor misses a deadline.
An investor emails with six urgent questions.
A design team forgets to attach their files.
Someone schedules two meetings over the same time slot.
I bounce between problems like a pinball, solving what I can, redirecting what I can't, and sending updates to Leonard every thirty minutes so he doesn't explode.
By the time the day winds down, my head is pounding.
I pack my things and leave the building, relieved to see the sky turning pink and orange. Sunset always makes the city feel less harsh.
On the bus ride home, I rest my forehead against the window and close my eyes. The last forty-eight hours have been a lot—even for me. I focus on breathing, slow and steady.
When I get home, Rose is on the couch again, sketching something in her notebook.
"You look dead," she says without looking up.
"Thanks."
Massie pokes her head out of the kitchen. "Dinner in ten."
I drop my bag in my room and splash water on my face. The reflection in the mirror shows tired eyes, hair escaping my ponytail, and a thin line of worry between my brows.
Friday isn't here yet, but it's taking up space like it already owns the week.
At dinner, Rose chatters about her art classes and her friends. Massie asks about work. I give her the short version because the long one would drain me all over again.
Later, after dishes and a shower, I sit on my bed with the window cracked open. The night breeze is cool against my skin. Somewhere down the street, a neighbor's dog barks. Someone laughs. Life goes on.
I open my laptop to review Friday's materials one more time, but my eyes keep drifting to the words
Global Legacy Inc.
Then Liam Smith.
Then CEO.
Then presentation.
I check my emails and discover that two messages have been sent by Global legacy Inc. and I attend to it quickly.
I shut the laptop gently before the anxiety catches fire.
I stretch out on my back and breathe in the cool air.
I don't know why the thought of meeting him makes me uneasy. Maybe it's the rumors. Maybe it's the pressure. Or maybe it's that deep instinct that whispers sometimes when something big is about to happen.
Something is coming.
I can feel it.
I just don't know what.
I close my eyes and let the night swallow the last few hours from my mind.
Friday will come.
And I'll deal with it the way I always do—quietly, steadily, and one step at a time.