The humidity of downtown Chicago hung heavy in the air, but inside the Thompson Tower, the atmosphere was even more suffocating. The elevator was a polished metal box of tension, packed to its limit with ambitious suits and nervous energy.
“Hold up! Get out of the way, old man, seriously, move it!”
The voice, sharp and dripping with unearned entitlement, sliced through the quiet hum of the machinery. A woman in a razor-sharp power suit shoved an elderly man toward the corner, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, her expression one of utter disdain for anything that slowed her down.
“How dare you lay a hand on an elder?”
A clear, steady voice rang out, vibrating with a confidence that made the other passengers shift. Emily Carter stood her ground, her eyes locking onto the blonde woman. “The elevator’s already overloaded, and it happened the moment you stepped in. If anyone’s leaving, it should be you.”
Sophia Reed, the star Senior Manager of Thompson Enterprises, whirled around. Her features, usually composed in a mask of professional superiority, twisted into a sneer. “Who do you think you are to tell me to leave? Do you have any idea who I am? Or my direct connection to Michael Thompson, the Chairman himself?”
She scanned Emily from head to toe, her eyes lingering on the modest but neat attire Emily wore for her interview. To Sophia, the girl was a nobody—a speck of dust on the polished floor of her empire.
“I don’t care who you are,” Emily replied, her voice not wavering. “Apologize to him right now.”
The silence in the elevator was deafening. Emily could hear the frantic beating of her own heart, but she didn’t look away. Beside her, a nervous bystander leaned in, whispering just loud enough for Emily to hear. “She’s here for an interview. She’ll tank it for sure, after offending Sophia.”
Emily ignored the warning. It wasn’t worth her breath to argue with the peanut gallery. She turned her attention to the older man, who was still trembling slightly from the shove. His eyes were wide, a mix of shock and gratitude swimming in them.
“Sir, are you okay?” she asked softly.
The man offered a weak, shaky smile. “I’m fine, thank you, miss. Glad you’re all right, too.” He paused, his gaze warming as he looked at her. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Emily Carter.”
“Do you work here, at Thompson Enterprises?” he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
“No, sir. I’m actually here for an interview.” Emily managed a small, hopeful smile, though the weight of the earlier confrontation sat heavy in her stomach.
The old man beamed, a sudden spark of life returning to his face. “Well, I believe in you, Emily. You’ll pass for sure.”
There was something so sincere in his voice that it brought a flush of warmth to Emily’s chest. “I appreciate that, sir,” she said just as the elevator chimed.
The doors slid open, and the crowd surged out like a dam breaking. Emily followed the flow toward the HR floor, surrounded by the hushed murmurs of other candidates.
“Man, I wonder if I’ll actually meet Mr. Thompson today,” one man muttered.
“Why would he attend interviews for us small fries?” another scoffed. “Unless you make it to the executive office, you’ll barely get a chance to interact with Chairman Thompson.”
The reception area was a sea of glass and white marble. A crisp voice eventually cut through the noise. “Emily Carter?”
“That’s me,” Emily said, stepping forward and taking a deep breath.
“Come in for your interview.”
While Emily was stepping into her potential future, a different world was unfolding a few hundred miles away. In a sleek, glass-walled penthouse overlooking the green expanse of Central Park in New York City, Michael Thompson was pacing. The CEO of Thompson Enterprises was the picture of modern power, but right now, he looked like a man at his wit’s end.
“Mr. Johnson, our staff wasn’t at JFK to pick up Grandpa,” Michael said into his phone, his voice tight with frustration. “Did you check his old brownstone in Brooklyn Heights? No sign there either.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing. “You brat, Grandpa. Are you still recovering? Why on earth would you sneak back to the USA without telling anyone?”
A gruff, booming voice erupted from the other end of the line. “You have the nerve to ask me? It’s been a whole year, Michael! A whole year since you promised to bring me my granddaughter-in-law. Where is she? Did you even get married?”
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing. “Grandpa, I showed you the marriage certificate.”
“Just the cover, boy! Do you think I’m senile? I don’t care about covers. I want to meet her. If I don’t see her, I swear, I’ll… I’ll end my life right here!” The old man’s flair for the dramatic was a family legend, but it never failed to put Michael in a corner.
“Fine, fine!” Michael surrendered. “If you promise to recover properly, I’ll take you to meet her. One month, okay? That’s all you get.”
He heard a satisfied huff from the other end. Then, his grandfather’s tone shifted, becoming uncharacteristically soft. “Oh, and a girl named Emily Carter interviewed at your company today. Hire her.”
Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “Grandpa, our company hires based on merit. You know that. We don’t do favors.”
“She made it to the interview, didn’t she? That shows capability right there. That Emily Carter girl… she’s kind and beautiful. I like her. A lot.” There was an edge of finality in the old man’s voice that suggested the conversation was over.
Michael suppressed another sigh. “Alright, alright. I’ll hire her. Happy now?”
“Let’s go, Grandpa. I’ll take you home,” Michael added, hoping to steer the old man toward safety.
“No need,” his grandfather replied dismissively. “I’ll go alone. Emily Carter, huh…” he mumbled, and Michael could almost hear the smile in his voice before the line went dead.
Back in Chicago, Emily walked into the interview room. The air was frigid. Seated at the head of the long mahogany table was Sophia Reed, her face twisted in a sneer the moment she recognized Emily.
“Ew. What a coincidence.”
Emily’s heart plummeted. The blonde woman didn’t even try to hide her malice. I’m doomed, Emily thought.
“Get out,” Sophia snapped, waving a dismissive hand as if shooing a fly.
“You haven’t even looked at my resume,” Emily retorted, a flicker of that elevator defiance returning to her eyes.
“Don’t need to. Trash like you doesn’t belong here. Take your resume and scram.” Sophia’s voice dripped with venom, the words designed to humiliate.
Suddenly, the heavy doors swung open. Michael Thompson walked in, his presence instantly commanding every molecule of oxygen in the room. He was more formidable in person than in any magazine—sharp, cold, and devastatingly handsome.
“Oh my god, Mr. Thompson. He’s even more handsome in person,” a panelist whispered, sounding completely star-struck.
Emily, however, was too angry to be impressed. She turned her gaze from the CEO to the woman who had just insulted her. “You’re just retaliating because I offended you in the elevator, aren’t you?”
Sophia smirked, leaning back in her chair. “So what if I am? You bullied an elder earlier. That was wrong.”
Emily’s jaw dropped at the sheer audacity of the lie. “And given another chance,” she shot back, her voice echoing in the large room, “I’d do it again. With interviewers like you, I quit this process.”
She tossed her resume onto the table with a sharp thwack.
Sophia shrugged nonchalantly. “Suit yourself. Who needs this anyway?”
Michael, who had been standing by the door with a stony expression, finally spoke. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, locked onto Emily. “Why do you look… familiar?” he mused. “Who is Emily Carter?”
“That’s me,” Emily answered, surprised he even knew her name.
“Majored in design?” Michael continued, his eyes scanning the abandoned resume on the table. He turned to a man sitting nearby. “Does our design department still need more people?”
“Mr. Thompson, our department is fully staffed now,” the design manager interjected nervously.
Michael didn’t miss a beat. “You can join the secretarial pool as an intern,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He looked at his assistant. “Alex Johnson, handle her onboarding.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex replied, though his face was a mask of confusion as he ushered a stunned Emily out of the room.
As the door closed behind them, Sophia glared daggers at Emily’s back. “This woman’s already hitting on Mr. Thompson. You’ll pay for this,” she hissed under her breath.
The first few hours of Emily’s internship were a whirlwind of paperwork and cold shoulders. She was trying to find her desk when a loud, greasy voice cut through the office chatter.
“Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. The new girl who thinks she can play with the big bosses,” Ryan Patel, the Head of Marketing, sneered as he stepped too close, deliberately invading her personal space. His tone was dripping with condescension.
“You need to step back, Mr. Patel,” Emily said firmly, standing her ground but not moving away, refusing to show fear.
“Or what? You’ll run to Mr. Thompson again? Some people get ahead on merit, sweetheart. Others, like you, just use their… connections,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her dismissively.
Emily’s jaw tightened. “My work will speak for itself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties that don’t involve listening to baseless insults.” She made a move to walk around him.
Ryan froze, his face turning a blotchy red. “You dare hit me?!”
“You harassed me,” Emily stated, her jaw tight, her eyes burning. “A slap was mercy.”
“Weren’t you just chasing Mr. Thompson?” Ryan scoffed, rubbing his hand and sneering. “What’s wrong with a little touch from me? Stop playing the innocent saint.”
“Mr. Thompson! Mark my words!”
Sophia Reed suddenly appeared as if summoned by the conflict. Michael Thompson emerged from his office a second later, his brow furrowed as he took in the scene.
“Don’t you move,” Emily warned Ryan, her hand hovering near her side as if ready to strike again.
“Let go of me!” Ryan struggled, trying to regain some dignity.
“What happened?” Michael demanded.
“He harassed me!” Emily declared, her voice trembling with indignation. “He touched me without permission!”
Ryan immediately pivoted, his face transforming into a mask of feigned distress. “Mr. Thompson, I didn’t! She’s… she’s using me to climb up! She came on to me!” He put on a masterclass of acting, looking around at the other employees for support. “Who let this scheming woman into our company? Fire her immediately!”
“Mr. Thompson,” Emily interjected, her voice firm despite the chaos. “You hired her.”
Michael paused, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes.
Ryan, thinking he had the upper hand, began to gloat. “What the–”
“Mr. Thompson, I’m so sorry!” Alex Johnson rushed forward, looking mortified. “I spoke out of turn earlier. I apologize, but you must believe me! She was the one hitting on me!”
“He’s lying!” Emily protested, her head spinning from the sheer amount of gaslighting happening in the room.
“Mr. Thompson,” Ryan pleaded, regaining his oily composure. “After all these years at the company, I’ve always been diligent. You have to trust me.”
Michael’s voice was cold, decisive, and final. “Get out. You hear me? Get out.”
Emily’s heart sank. “It was clearly him harassing me! Why fire me instead?!” she exclaimed, feeling the world’s unfairness crashing down on her.
Michael sighed, rubbing his temples as if dealing with a particularly slow child. “I meant him. Not you.”
Ryan looked utterly aghast. “Idiot!” he blurted out, the word escaping him before he could stop it. “Mr. Thompson, I know I messed up! I have an 80-year-old mother and a child on the way! If you fire me, they’ll starve! Mr. Thompson, I beg you, please give me another chance!”
Michael didn’t say a word. He simply held up three fingers.
“Mr. Thompson!”
Two fingers.
Ryan, realizing the countdown was for his remaining seconds in the building, started to babble. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson! Thank you!” He scurried out of the office like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.
Michael watched him go, then his gaze drifted back to Emily. A thought seemed to nag at the back of his mind. “Have I seen her somewhere?” he murmured. “Alex Johnson.”
“Yes, Mr. Thompson?”
“Bring me my marriage certificate. And by the way, last year, what was the name of the person you found for me to marry?”
Alex, ever efficient, didn’t hesitate. “Olivia Bennett, sir. Are you sure?”
Michael frowned. “I’m sure. Must I have remembered wrong?” He turned back to Emily, his expression softening only slightly. “Emily Carter, I’ll get you some materials to review. Okay?”
“Okay,” Emily replied, still breathless from the sudden shift in power.