Ethan hadn't slept much the night after the job offer.
The delivery bag still sat in the corner of his apartment, a quiet reminder of the life he was leaving behind—if he took the offer. He'd paced his cramped living room for hours, replaying every word Lila had said.
"You've got potential," she'd told him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Potential. The word rattled around in his head, both thrilling and infuriating. What did someone like her see in someone like him? He'd spent years hustling for scraps, juggling jobs that left him exhausted and empty. The idea of stepping into Lila Devereaux's world—a world of high-rises, polished conference rooms, and cutthroat ambition—felt like stepping into another galaxy.
And yet, something about her offer gnawed at him. It wasn't just the money, though that alone was more than he could wrap his head around. It was the way she'd looked at him—like she knew he was capable of more, even when he wasn't sure of it himself.
But it was also terrifying. Accepting the job meant walking into the unknown, a place where failure wasn't just a possibility—it was a guarantee if he couldn't rise to the occasion. What if he wasn't enough?
By the time dawn broke, he'd made his decision. He couldn't stay in his current life, stuck in the same endless grind. If there was even a chance to change that, he had to take it.
Now, sitting in the sleek office building with a binder full of charts and graphs he barely understood, Ethan wondered—for the hundredth time—if he'd made a mistake.
"You have two hours," Lila had said earlier, handing him the binder with the air of someone tossing a gauntlet.
Two hours. For someone like Ethan, who had zero experience with corporate spreadsheets and projections, it might as well have been two seconds. He hunched over his desk, struggling to make sense of the labyrinth of numbers and terms. The rest of the office buzzed around him, but it all felt like white noise.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus. He wasn't going to let this job beat him—not yet.
Across the room, he could feel Lila's eyes on him. She didn't say anything, but he could tell she was watching, measuring him against some impossible standard.
"Blake," her voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
Ethan's head shot up to find Lila standing over him, her sharp heels clicking against the polished floor. She tilted her head toward the binder in his hands. "Progress?"
She noticed the look on his face, the strain of the job etched in his expression.
But Ethan was determined to show her that he could do the job.