The office was too quiet, too clean. He sat stiffly in the chair, a single bead of sweat trailing down his temple. The chair behind the desk remained turned away, the silhouette of a woman barely visible against the window’s light.

You watched him in the glass—his nervous fidgeting, the way he scanned the office like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Mr. Carter,” you began, voice smooth and cold, “you led a team of twelve in your previous company. One of your members made a critical mistake that cost the team a million-dollar client. What did you do?”

He answered confidently, outlining how he salvaged the relationship, supported his team, turned it into a long-term gain.

You hummed quietly. “Impressive. Now for a real question.” You leaned back, your gaze never leaving his reflection.

“What would you do if your biggest mistake… was sitting right 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 of you?”

He froze.

The silence stretched.

You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “I’d ask for a second chance,” he said finally. “And I’d try not to mess it up this time.”

You turned your chair slowly, finally revealing yourself.

Your eyes met his. So much unsaid hung in the air between you. Shock flitted across his face, followed by something softer—regret? Hope?

You stood, walked toward him with quiet grace, heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

You stopped just in front of him, holding his gaze. Then you extended your hand and said:

“You’re hired.”