The conference room smelled faintly of espresso and polished wood, but Selene Armitage barely noticed. Hiring season was supposed to be effortless—a parade of the brightest, most eager law graduates falling over themselves to impress her.

Instead, it was a disaster.

She glanced at the fifth candidate in a row, a young man nervously wringing his hands. His résumé was impressive, but his answers were clumsy, vague, and painfully rehearsed. Selene rested her chin on her hand, her gaze sharp as a scalpel.

“Explain to me how you handle pressure,” she said, her voice smooth but icy.

“I—I think I do my best under—uh—stress?” He flinched under her stare.

Selene let a long pause stretch between them, the kind that makes people squirm. Finally, she spoke, slow and deliberate: “Your best is not good enough.”

He nodded, defeated, and left. Another failure. Another reminder that even in a city full of ambitious talent, the raw skill she demanded was rare.

She leaned back in her chair, letting her fingers drum lightly on the desk. Normally, this process invigorated her—a game of wit and instinct. Today, it was exhausting. Perhaps it was the wrong week. Perhaps she had grown too accustomed to perfection.

Her assistant knocked and entered, hesitating. “Next candidate, Ms. Armitage. This is, uh, the last one for today—until tomorrow.”

Selene arched a brow. “Send them in.”

As the door opened, Selene straightened. Whatever came next, she was ready. She always was. But even she felt a flicker of doubt—subtle, unwelcome—that maybe, just this once, hiring season wasn’t going to go her way.