(Elara POV)
The change is immediate.
I feel it the moment I sit back down at my desk.
Whispers don't happen on this floor — not openly — but glances do. Lingering ones. Curious ones. The kind that weren't there yesterday.
I keep my eyes on my screen and pretend nothing is different.
Five minutes later, my inbox pings.
Revised Task Allocation – Effective Immediately
I open it.
Half my responsibilities are gone.
Replaced with… data validation. Cross-checking. Back-end analysis.
Work that doesn't show.
Work that disappears behind other people's names.
My chest tightens.
This isn't random.
"Ms. Moore."
Vivienne's voice is calm. Pleasant.
I look up.
She's standing beside my desk, tablet in hand, smile perfectly in place.
"I've reassigned a few things," she says lightly. "You've been doing too much lately."
"I didn't realize there was an issue," I reply softly.
"There isn't," she says. "But assistants should stay within scope. It avoids confusion."
My fingers curl into my palm.
"Yes," I say. "Of course."
She leans closer, lowering her voice.
"Visibility can be dangerous," she adds. "Especially when it's undeserved."
Then she walks away.
My throat burns, but I don't move. I don't argue. I just open the first file and start working.
At six thirty, the floor empties.
At seven, I'm still there.
At eight, the lights dim automatically.
"Why are you still here?"
I look up.
Mr. Hale is standing behind my desk.
"I'm finishing the reassigned work," I say quickly.
He glances at my screen.
Then at the task list.
Then back at me.
"Who did this?" he asks.
"I can manage," I say. Too fast.
"That wasn't the question," he replies.
I don't answer.
He straightens. "Bring your laptop."
My heart stumbles. "Sir?"
"Now."
I follow him into his office for the first time.
The door closes.
The silence is heavier in here.
He doesn't sit. He stands near his desk, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"Vivienne changed your scope," he says.
"Yes."
"Without my approval."
"I didn't want to cause friction," I say quietly.
"That's not your decision to make."
I flinch.
He exhales slowly, like he's reining something in.
"You don't get sidelined because someone feels threatened," he continues. "Not on my floor."
Threatened.
The word lands hard.
"I'm just an assistant," I say.
He steps closer.
"No," he says calmly. "You're not just anything."
The air tightens.
I'm aware of how close he is. Of how small the room feels now.
"You work late," he continues, eyes steady on mine. "You don't complain. You don't ask for credit. And when you see something wrong, you fix it."
My pulse races.
"That makes you valuable," he says. "And valuable things don't get taken away."
I don't trust my voice, so I stay silent.
He reaches past me and taps something on my laptop.
The task list refreshes.
My original responsibilities are back.
Plus more.
"Go home," he says. "Now."
"But—"
"That's not a suggestion."
I nod.
As I turn to leave, his voice stops me.
"Elara."
He never uses my name.
I freeze.
"You don't need to make yourself smaller here," he says quietly. "Not for anyone."
I step out into the empty hallway, heart pounding, thoughts spinning.
This is too much.
Too fast.
I walk back to my desk, pack my bag, and head toward the elevator.
As the doors close, I catch a glimpse of Vivienne across the floor, watching me.
Her smile is gone.
And for the first time since I started working here, I realize something terrifying.
Mr. Hale didn't just undo her move.
He chose a side