The office buzzed with the usual clatter of keyboards and hushed conversations, but Zara Winters wasn't fazed by the noise. She was in her element—sitting at her desk like a queen in a battlefield, her laptop open and papers strewn across her desk. A cigarette dangled carelessly between her fingers as she scanned through the final stages of a massive project. Her outfit—classic button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, distressed jeans—had that effortless charm that made everyone look twice. But it wasn't just her looks that commanded attention; it was the energy she exuded. Zara had a way of making the most mundane moments feel like a power play.

As she sifted through the project details, her assistant Tori nervously approached, holding a stack of papers. "Zara, we have a problem with the financials," Tori said, voice shaky.

Without looking up, Zara casually leaned back in her chair, the cigarette between her fingers now glowing orange. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, but a subtle shift in her expression made Tori's stomach drop. "A problem, huh?" Zara repeated, her voice like silk laced with steel. "Tell me, Tori, what kind of problem are we talking about here?"

Tori hesitated, and for a brief moment, the room felt a little too still. "I-I think the numbers are off by a few thousand," she stammered.

Zara's gaze flicked up, and for a split second, her eyes—cold, piercing—felt like daggers. "A few thousand?" she repeated, her voice unnervingly calm. "Are you telling me that a few thousand is just a 'problem' to you, Tori?" The silence in the room thickened. Tori felt a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. Zara's expression was like a predator's, and Tori, for a moment, was the prey. Zara leaned forward slightly, every inch of her demeanor exuding a quiet, dangerous intensity. "If this 'few thousand' isn't fixed, we will have a much bigger problem, won't we?"

Tori's throat tightened, and her eyes widened, clearly terrified. She swallowed hard but could barely manage a squeak. "I-I'll fix it, Zara. Right away."

Zara's eyes narrowed, and just as Tori thought she might melt into the floor, Zara's lips curled into a smile so wide and sweet it felt like a slap to the face. "Good girl," she said, her voice suddenly soft and syrupy. "But, uh, don't make that mistake again, okay?"

The smile held no warmth. Tori nodded frantically, her heart still pounding in her chest as Zara effortlessly flicked her gaze back to the laptop.

Tori slowly backed away, now more terrified than before. Zara, meanwhile, blew out a puff of smoke, her eyes glinting with humor as she caught sight of a few employees trying not to stare. She gave a casual shrug, as if the whole interaction had been no big deal. "Seriously, though," she muttered under her breath to no one in particular, "if they ever figure out what a real mistake looks like, I'll be impressed."

Her assistant, still shaken, let out a nervous laugh as she quickly exited, leaving Zara to her thoughts. But just as quickly as the storm had come, it was gone, replaced by the usual relaxed confidence that everyone had come to expect from the woman who seemed to rule the room without even trying.

Zara smirked, leaning back in her chair. "A few thousand," she muttered again with a shake of her head. "Amateurs."