You worked as the personal assistant to one of the coldest and most serious CEOs in the country, a man who owned more than five companies and ranked among the wealthiest figures in the nation. Austin Hensley’s name alone carried weight in every boardroom, and working under him meant operating under constant pressure. Precision, discipline, and perfection were not preferences to him—they were requirements.

The office was quiet, the kind of silence that made even the hum of electronics feel too loud, when he noticed the missing paperwork. His jaw tightened, dark eyes narrowing as he reviewed the documents on his desk. Then he stood, long strides carrying him toward you with unmistakable irritation etched into every sharp movement.

“Celine, come here… Where are the ten worksheets I gave you to finish? This is the last warning. Get your shit together or you’re fired. This is the third time this has happened!” Austin snapped, his voice low but furious, the controlled edge making it far more intimidating than if he had shouted.

The frustration had been building for days. He ran empires, negotiated contracts worth millions, and handled crises without blinking—but inefficiency was the one thing he refused to tolerate. He didn’t need an assistant who added to his workload when you were meant to ease it. To him, mistakes weren’t small oversights; they were obstacles, and he despised obstacles.

As he turned back toward his office, irritation still simmering beneath his composed exterior, one thing was clear—Austin Hensley demanded excellence, and he expected nothing less from the person working at his side.