Mila’s POV
I do not see Titan Corp. I always pass through it like I did not have eyes on me.
The halls are glossy and gleaming. All the people are extremely confident, strolling at a brisk pace, laughing, talking as though the world were theirs. I simply stride on, holding my files and hoping that no one will pick me up or stare too long.
Most people don’t notice me.
Shove, a male grumbles as he pushes through.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
There are two girls in the printing place who look at me and laugh.
“That’s Mila,” one says. The only coffee server girl.
“Yeah,” the other adds. “She’ll never get past that.”
Their words sting. It is as though a person were rubbing a thumb against a bruise in my chest. I turn my head quickly and continue to walk. I do not wish them to know how heavy her words are rendered to make the air.
I come up to my small desk at the end of the hallway. Most people forget it exists. The chair squeaks when I sit. I take a deep breath and begin organising papers. I have shaking hands, and I attempt to hold them steady.
It is my daily routine to keep quiet, be anonymous, and not make trouble.
But today feels weird. Like the air’s too tight.
We hear shouts in the conference room along the hall--shouts, angry, very angry.
I look in at the glass walls.
The execs are seated around the long table, flushed in faces and waving hands. Papers are all about.
“This report is wrong! So entirely mistaken! One man cries.
It will keep off the Amsterdam investors, do you take it?
My heart leaps.
I know those documents.
I had the originals the day before.
I shake my fingers as I turn through my drawer. I find the real numbers. The mistake is obvious. A simple mix‑up. Not yours--yet I am the only one who noticed.
My chest tightens. Should I… say something?
My brain screams no.
You see, people do not like to be talked to by a person like me. They don’t listen.
However, staying silent, the company will become bad. It is my only haven, although Titan Corp is large and cold. My only steady paycheck. My only world.
So I stand.
I am walking towards the conference room, feeling weak in my knees. I attempt to gulp the panic, though it is lodged in my throat.
As they are seen through the window, they are huge beings fighting over fire.
Ruben Max is the CEO and sits at the head.
He is known by everyone in Amsterdam. The magazines and business screens all over the city have his face. He is well known because of his cold voice, sharp mind, and empty expression.
Untouchable.
Unbreakable.
He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t even look stressed. He is quiet, looking around, searching the room, hoping someone would be intelligent enough to calm the commotion.
"Mila."
I freeze.
"Come to my office," he says. "Alone."
My heart drops to my stomach.
His office is up the stairway above men like me. I shouldn’t be there. I would not even be anywhere close to that elevator that leads to that floor.
But he told me to come.
So I go.
I feel like I am dragging my legs into his office. It is massive, and the tall windows are filled with the entire city. Everything is cold, costly and overly flawless.
Ruben is close to his desk and looks at me as he walks in with his hands in his pockets.
I stop a few steps away.
"Y-you wanted to see me, sir?" My voice cracks.
He examines me for a moment or two. This silence is such a long one that I shiver.
You were nervous, he says, merely.
I blink. "W-what?"
"In the conference room. You were scared." His eyes stay on mine. But you came forward, nevertheless.
I look down at my shoes. "I... I simply did not want the company to get into trouble.
You did not want the company to get into trouble, he says to himself. "Interesting."
My hands twist together. I am sorry, I guess I did not break anything.
"You didn't."
I look up quickly.
His look changes, at last--a bit. It feels strange. Like seeing a crack in ice.
You saw something no one of the executives saw, he says. You have talked when people kept silent.
I swallow hard. "It was just a mistake I caught—"
"No," he cuts in. "It was more."
He steps closer.
My breath stumbles. My heart hits my ribs.
You have not been invisible as you believe, Mila.
The words hit me like a shock.
I stare at him, I do not know what to breathe, I do not know what to reply. The steady gaze of his eyes is unreadable.
Then he says a thing that secretes ice in my blood.
Why have you been hiding? I need to know.
I blink fast. "H-hiding?"
He leans slightly closer. A person with your eyes does not prefer to remain silent without a purpose.
My chest tightens painfully.
I step back. "Sir, I... I don't understand—"
Thou shalt tell me, he says to himself, Thou shalt tell me shortly.
My skin prickles. Why is he so interested? What is going on with the man like that, peeking at me as though I were a secret he was determined to unravel?
Before I can speak, he adds:
Starting tomorrow... You will be working under me.
My heart stops.
"W-work for you?" I whisper.
"Yes." His gaze doesn't move. "I want you close."
I get a cold shiver down my back.
Why does he want me close?
Why me?
He turns with a slight aversion, picking up a file.
"Go home for today, Mila," he says. "We start tomorrow."
I stand frozen.
Then he turns about behind him--
And smiles the most minuscule, acute, uncomfortable smile.
A smile so like the start of something dangerous.
"Don't be late."
My breath catches.
I leave his office with a racing heart and spinning mind.
The elevator doors are shut before my eyes.
And I whisper to myself—
"What... have I just stepped into?"
