Ava
Okay, Ava. Breathe.
You've made it this far. You're standing in front of Carter Global — the place that could change your life. You just have to walk in. One step, then the next. No tripping. No freezing. Just... walk.
God, this building is massive. It's not just tall — it's a statement. Like it's screaming: *only the best belong here.* And here I am, in a secondhand blazer that still smells like lavender detergent. My resume folder is clutched so tightly it might crack in half.
You need this job.
No. You *desperately* need this job. Rent is two weeks late. Utilities are threatening to shut off. Sarah's tuition reminder came in the mail again. This is the one shot you can't afford to blow.
I step through the revolving doors, and instantly, the air changes. It's cold. Polished. Like even the oxygen here is too expensive to waste.
People move like they have somewhere to be. Fast, sharp, confident. Their heels click like clockwork — their suits worth more than my entire apartment. I probably look like I wandered in by mistake.
Focus.
"Excuse me," I say to the receptionist. Voice steady. Smile small. Don't let the nerves show. "I'm here for the 10 a.m. secretary interview. Ava Sinclair."
She doesn't look up. Just types something, then points. "Forty-seventh floor. Assistant will direct you."
Okay. Elevator. Easy. You know how to press buttons.
The elevator is gold-trimmed. Mirrored. I catch a glimpse of myself. Pale. Eyes rimmed with worry. Chin lifted out of habit, not confidence. I smooth my hair. Whisper under my breath: "You can do this. You've survived worse."
Each floor ticks by like a heartbeat. By the time the doors open, I've rehearsed my introduction three times. Four. Maybe five.
The top floor is... beautiful. Minimalist. Sleek. The kind of place where everything costs more than I make in a month. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the entire floor. You could see all of New York from here — and maybe even all your fears.
The assistant barely glances up. "You're here for the interview?"
"Yes," I say, voice thin.
"Conference room. CEO will see you shortly."
Wait. CEO?
Did she say... the CEO?
Why would the CEO interview a secretary applicant?
Don't ask. Just go.
I walk slowly to the glass-walled room. My heels are suddenly too loud. My heartbeat, even louder. This room is all light and glass. Cold perfection. And there — across the room — in front of a wall of windows...
Someone is standing.
Back turned. Hands in pockets. Shoulders squared like marble.
He's tall. Imposing. Silent. Facing the skyline like he owns it. For all I know, he does.
I open my mouth. "Good morning, sir. I'm Ava Sinclair. I—"
He turns.
My breath vanishes.
No.
No, it can't be.
That face.
That jawline. Those eyes. Older, colder... but still him.
*Lucas.*
What the hell is Lucas doing here?
What the hell is *Lucas Carter* doing as CEO of Carter Global?
I feel the floor tilt beneath me. My fingers go numb. My voice is gone.
He just stares.
No recognition. No smile. Nothing.
Like he doesn't even know me.
Like he didn't vanish from my life ten years ago without a single word.
Like he wasn't my everything.
My best friend.
My first heartbreak.
And now\... he's standing in front of me.
The CEO I'm interviewing for.
Of course.
Of course it had to be *him.*