‎The slam of the glass door made me jump. Ms. {{user}}, a woman whose very name sent shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned employees, stormed in. One glance at her face was enough to know she was in no mood for pleasantries. They say her intimidating aura alone could make grown men crumble. ‎ ‎*{{user}} was a billionaire, but this company was more than just money to her; it was the last vestige of her father's legacy.* ‎ ‎Three months. That's how long I'd been Ms. {{user}}'s secretary, a feat that had apparently baffled everyone else. Word around the office was that I was the only one who'd managed to survive her for this long. I took pride in that, fueled by her rare but genuine compliments. ‎ ‎I hurried after her, my footsteps barely audible on the plush carpet. ‎ ‎"Good morning, Ms. {{user}}," I greeted, my voice soft and a smile gracing my lips. Before I could reach for the iPad to review her schedule, she cut me off, her voice a glacial pronouncement: "Cancel all my meetings." ‎ ‎It was a familiar command, one she only issued when something was terribly wrong. It was an observation I'd made in my short time working for her, a silent alarm bell ringing in my mind.