The weight of the file in Amelia's hands felt heavier than its contents warranted. It wasn't just the sleek leather binder, embossed with the Tiancheng logo in gleaming silver, but the knowledge that within its pages lay a critical proposal, one that Ethan was personally overseeing, one that could make or break a crucial deal for the company.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the frantic pace of her thoughts. She'd been entrusted with organizing and summarizing key data points for the proposal, a task that required meticulous attention to detail, a task she'd approached with the solemnity of a monk transcribing sacred texts. She'd spent hours poring over spreadsheets, cross-referencing figures, double-checking every decimal point, every footnote, determined to prove herself worthy of the trust Ethan had placed in her.
And yet, here she was, staring down at the file in her hands, a cold dread settling in the pit of her stomach. A single, glaring error, a misplaced decimal point that had somehow slipped past her scrutiny, now stared back at her, mocking her diligence, her meticulousness, her desperate need to prove herself in this high-stakes world.
It had happened so quickly. A momentary lapse in concentration, a fleeting distraction as Li Wei recounted a particularly amusing anecdote from the company's annual talent show (apparently, the CFO had an unexpected talent for breakdancing), and that was all it took. One tiny error, a single misplaced digit, and the carefully constructed edifice of her confidence crumbled around her like a house of cards in a hurricane.
She'd discovered the mistake just moments before Ethan was due to review the proposal, her heart plummeting to her stomach as she realized the potential ramifications of her oversight. Images of Ethan's icy fury, his disappointment, his utter lack of tolerance for anything less than perfection, flashed through her mind, each more terrifying than the last.
She considered, for a fleeting moment, trying to fix the error without him noticing. Perhaps she could subtly alter the spreadsheet, make it seem like a typo, a minor oversight easily rectified. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. Deception, even with the best of intentions, was a dangerous game, especially in Ethan's world, where trust was a currency more valuable than gold.
So, with a deep breath and a sinking heart, she gathered her courage and approached his office, the file feeling heavier with each step, the weight of her mistake pressing down on her like a physical burden.
She knocked tentatively on the door, her voice barely a whisper as she announced her presence. "Mr. Carter, it's Amelia. I have the proposal you requested."
"Come in," his voice, as always, was calm, controlled, giving nothing away.
She pushed open the door, her stomach churning with a mixture of dread and nausea. He was seated at his desk, his attention focused on a series of graphs displayed on his computer screen, his expression unreadable. The late afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the room, adding to the already somber atmosphere.
He glanced up as she approached, his gaze sharp and piercing, taking in her pale face, her tightly clasped hands, the file held out before her like a shield. "You seem troubled, Ms. Amelia," he observed, his voice devoid of inflection, yet somehow, she detected a hint of something else beneath the surface, a flicker of concern perhaps, or maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part.
"Mr. Carter, I... I need to apologize," she stammered, her carefully rehearsed explanation dissolving into a jumble of incoherent words. "There's been a... a slight error in the proposal. My mistake. I..."
She trailed off, unable to meet his gaze, the weight of his silence pressing down on her, amplifying her shame and regret. She braced herself for his anger, his disappointment, the inevitable reprimand that she knew she deserved.
But it didn't come.
Instead, he simply raised an eyebrow, his expression curious rather than angry. "An error, you say? Show me."
His calm reaction, so unexpected, so at odds with the fear that had been gnawing at her, only served to heighten her anxiety. With trembling hands, she placed the file on his desk, her gaze fixed on the offending document, unable to bear the thought of witnessing his reaction firsthand.
He opened the file, his movements precise and economical, his gaze scanning the pages with a speed and comprehension that never ceased to amaze her. She watched, her heart pounding, as his eyes finally landed on the page containing her error. A muscle twitched in his jaw, the only outward sign of his displeasure, but his voice, when he finally spoke, remained calm, controlled.
"This figure," he said, his finger tapping the offending number, "it's incorrect. Explain."
Amelia took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze, to face the consequences of her actions. "It's a misplaced decimal point, Mr. Carter. A careless mistake on my part. I should have been more careful, I..."
"Indeed, you should have," he cut her off, his voice sharp, brooking no argument. "This proposal is crucial, Ms. Amelia. A single error, however small, could have significant repercussions."
His words, though spoken without any overt anger, landed like a slap, a stark reminder of the high stakes involved, the weight of responsibility she carried on her shoulders. Shame washed over her, hot and suffocating, threatening to drown her in a sea of self-recrimination.
"I understand, Mr. Carter," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I take full responsibility for my mistake. I..."
She trailed off, unsure what else to say, what possible excuse she could offer to mitigate her carelessness. She braced herself for the inevitable, the termination of her employment, the crushing blow to her dreams, her carefully constructed future.
But instead, something unexpected happened.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening slightly, a hint of something akin to understanding flickering in his dark eyes. "Ms. Amelia," he said, his voice losing its usual edge, "while I do not condone carelessness, I recognize that everyone makes mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them."
He paused, his gaze holding hers, a silent message passing between them, a message that spoke of second chances, of forgiveness, of a belief in her potential that she hadn't dared to believe herself.
"I want you to take this proposal," he continued, his voice regaining its usual business-like tone, "and I want you to go through it again. Every figure, every data point, every footnote. Check and recheck your work until you are absolutely certain that there are no further errors. Do you understand?"
Amelia stared at him, her mind struggling to process his words, his unexpected leniency. He wasn't firing her? He was giving her a second chance? A wave of relief washed over her, so potent, so unexpected, that it threatened to buckle her knees.
"Yes, Mr. Carter," she breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "I understand. I won't let you down again."
He nodded curtly, his expression unreadable once more, the brief glimpse into his more human side vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "See that you don't," he said, his voice regaining its usual cool detachment. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend."
Amelia gathered the file, her hands no longer trembling, her heart lighter than it had been in hours. As she turned to leave, she risked a glance back at him, her gaze lingering on his profile, the sharp angles of his face softened by the warm glow of the setting sun. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips, but it was gone so quickly, she couldn't be sure if it was real or just a figment of her imagination.
As she made her way back to her desk, the weight of her mistake lifted, replaced by a newfound determination. Ethan Carter had given her a second chance, a gift more precious than he could possibly know. She wouldn't waste it.