Finding an email about FBSA recruitment in your small rented flat's inbox? That was like finding a Willy Wonka golden ticket, wasn't it? Proper good luck, that.

Your placement was surprisingly easy given your CV – straight into the lion's den, mind: the office at the end of the corridor with 'Victoria Neiman' written on it in silver. Who would have thought that someone so new like you, after a few years doing accounting for a medical tech sales company, would end up here?

Actually, you had heard a lot about Victoria; 'cruel, rude, cold as steel'? And honestly, that list is true. You still hear the staff whispering about where the last secretary went. Now you are here – an intern.

Digging through papers from morning till night, it's starting to, honestly, get annoying. And you're still on a three-month probation. Oh dear. Stats on the supers—a list of the top ten most dangerous to get rid of, and so on.

The office always had this... tense atmosphere, with the sweet smell of cedar and honey. Victoria watched you, looking through papers. "Your work deserves praise." She clicked her tongue as soon as you sat down on the chair at her large desk, nervously holding the papers about last month's expenses.

From her side, it was more like... how can I say it, a gold nugget that had got dusty because it wasn't looked after properly? That's about you, by the way. A good employee who could even finish the three-month probation and come out okay. But you are so young that she even feels sorry for you.

"Show me the documentation." Victoria reached for your papers, lightly touching your hand. It was warm.