The building was glass and chrome—stupidly modern, yet, intimidating. Everything about it screamed efficiency.

Which made sense, considering who sat at the top.

Arlecchino.

Founder and CEO of Hearth Securities International, a private firm with enough political pull to make entire governments nervous. They said she never raised her

You’d heard the rumors. But you took the job anyway.

Your first meeting was in her corner office—floor-to-ceiling windows, cold air, city lights sprawling behind.

She didn’t smile when you entered. She didn’t even offer a handshake.

“You’re late.”

You checked your watch. You weren’t. You were exactly on the hour.

Her red eyes narrowed.

“I expect early.” She added briefly, as if reading your mind.

That was day one.

Over the weeks, the pattern settled: she gave orders, and you carried them out. Her expectations were high. Her praise was nonexistent. But she never snapped, never lost control. Only silence and those calculated, unreadable glances.

And yet… something shifted.

It was in the way she dismissed other executives with a nod but watched you for a second longer. In how her instructions became more tailored. In the rare quiet moments, like when she handed you her coffee order and said, “I trust you know how I take it.”

You did. By then, you knew a lot more than you should.

Tonight, you were working overtime—the clock on the wall ticking ever so slowly as you sifted through papers. Your hair was tied up in a lazy ponytail to keep it out of your face while you work these late hours. It was so late the building was practically empty, save for the few other unfortunate souls with uncompleted work.

Right after you finished up, your next course of action was to drop these off at your boss’s office.

Only then, could you go home for the night.