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The elevator doors slid open, revealing a sleek waiting area brimming with polished glass and stainless steel. My heart raced as I stepped inside, adjusting the collar of my fitted blazer—a navy hue that complemented my stature but paled in comparison to the crisp professionalism radiating from the other candidates waiting for their interviews.
Elite men and women milled about, each exuding confidence, dressed in tailored suits and elegant dresses that whispered wealth and influence. I felt a twinge of self-doubt creeping in, but then I remembered who I was—Samara Wellington, determined and fiercely independent.
With a deep breath, I took a seat on one of the stylish chairs arranged neatly around a minimalist table. My gaze darted to the large glass wall that showcased a breathtaking view of the city, the sight both mesmerizing and intimidating.
As I waited, I observed the candidates around me. One woman, her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders, spoke effortlessly with a group of men. Her laughter was infectious but laced with a hint of superiority. I swallowed hard, trying to dismiss the uneasy comparisons swirling in my mind.
After what felt like an eternity, my name echoed softly through the air, breaking my reverie.
"Ms. Wellington, you're up."
---
I stood, smoothing down my dress, and walked toward the interview room. The panel was intimidating: three impeccably dressed executives, two men and a woman, all studying me with discerning eyes. Their expressions were unreadable; a serene calm that sent my nerves into overdrive.
"Please, take a seat," the woman said, motioning gracefully to the empty chair at the center of their half-circle arrangement.
"Thank you," I replied, my voice a tad shaky but firm.
The questions came swiftly—sharp, intelligent inquiries that ranged from my past experiences to my thoughts on marketing trends in the ever-evolving digital landscape. I spoke with enthusiasm about my previous campaigns, my passion flowing into each answer. Yet, despite my efforts, the imposing atmosphere made every word feel weighed down by gravity.
"Why do you think you're suitable for this position?" one of the men asked, his brow furrowed slightly.
"I believe my creativity and determination set me apart," I responded, voice growing steadier. "I'm not just looking for a job; I'm looking for an opportunity to contribute meaningfully to a team that is as passionate about innovation as I am."
The panel exchanged glances, and I caught a brief nod of approval from the woman, who seemed the most engaged. They ended the interview with standard pleasantries, but I couldn't shake the feeling of their eyes lingering on me as I left the room.
---
As I returned home, the cool evening air greeted me like an old friend. Despite the buzzing energy from this morning, a sense of weariness settled in. I flopped onto the worn couch, tossing my phone on the coffee table, waiting for a reply. Time crawled by, and I found myself lazily flipping through social media, amplifying my anxiety—was it too much to hope for a callback?
Days passed in a blur of mundane routines. I cooked, caught up on shows, and even attempted a home workout. With each dawn that passed without news, a gnawing disappointment took root in my chest.
Finally, on a particularly uneventful Thursday evening, I lay sprawled on the couch, munching on popcorn when my phone buzzed. My breath caught in my throat as I fumbled to unlock it.
An email notification lit up the screen:
Dear Ms. Wellington,
We are delighted to inform you that you have been selected for the position of Manager's Assistant at Eldridge Enterprises. You may start next Monday!
I screamed, joy and disbelief erupting within me. "I got it!" I exclaimed, leaping up from the couch. Jess peeked in, her wide smile mirroring my shock.
"Did you really?!" she shouted, racing over to join my celebration.
---
As Monday approached, I prepared with fervor. On my first day, I chose a crisp white blouse tucked neatly into a high-waisted pencil skirt that accentuated my figure. Paired with my favorite blazer, I felt ready to take on the corporate world.
Walking into the Eldridge Enterprises building, the air brimming with energy, I rode the elevator, heart pounding against my ribs, the sound of the mechanical whir rushing past my ears. The doors opened to a bright, vibrant office space, filled with colleagues exchanging ideas and laughter.
After introducing myself, I met my manager, Lisa, a striking woman with auburn hair and a keen eye for detail. Lisa welcomed me with warmth, her professionalism palpable as she laid out my responsibilities. My designated desk was in the heart of the marketing team, a hub of creativity and collaboration.
My colleagues were a diverse mix of personalities. Claire, my immediate work partner, was efficient and friendly, while Jeremy, a charming guy with tousled dark hair from another floor, immediately caught my attention. He had a gentlemanly demeanor that was refreshing; he always made sure to lend a helping hand and shared the latest office gossip with a playful sparkle in his deep blue eyes.
"Good luck on your first day!" he said, flashing me a bright smile as I settled in. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. And don't worry; I promise to make the coffee runs less terrifying."
As the first month flew by, I found my rhythm in this vibrant space, juggling deadlines and collaborating with my team. Yet, shadows loomed over the top floor—where Victor Eldridge, the CEO, held court.
"Why can't we go up there?" I asked Claire one afternoon, bemusedby the secrecy.
"That's where Mr. Eldridge's office is. No one goes up there unless you're on his exclusive list. It's strict business," she replied, her tone a mix of respect and wariness.
The buzz around the top floor intrigued me, fueling my curiosity. Each day brought new rumors circulating about Mr. Eldridge, the enigmatic CEO. His appearance was described variably: some said he was an imposing figure with dark, brooding features, while others claimed he barely resembled himself on different days. I tucked all these stories away in my mind as mere gossip—until the day I was asked to deliver documents to the top floor.
It came unexpectedly; my manager fell ill and was unable to bring important files to the main office. "Sam, I need you to take these up to Mr. Eldridge's office. Just drop them off with Veronica, his secretary," she instructed, her brow taut with concern. "And remember—don't go past the front office. Just don't."
"Sure, no problem!" I replied, excitement bubbling within me. A chance to see the top floor, albeit briefly, made my heart race.
As I made my way to the elegant elevator that would take me up, I felt both nervous and exhilarated. The doors closed, encasing me in an atmosphere tinged with authority. When they opened on the 14th floor, a wave of silence hit me, broken only by the soft sound of my heels clicking against the gleaming floor.
The corridor was luxuriously appointed, and the air felt charged with unspoken power. Yet the absence of people felt odd, especially in a place that promised such prestige.
"Uh, excuse me?" I called tentatively, hoping for a response. My voice seemed to vanish into the expanse of the polished hall. I fidgeted with the documents clutched in my hand, feeling their weight bearing down on my resolve.
As I glanced around, my instincts pulled me forward. With no sign of Veronica, a reckless curiosity took hold. I decided to deliver the documents personally.
My pulse raced as I approached a set of grand double doors devoid of any labels. The atmosphere grew thicker with tension as I opened them gently, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm in my ears.
What I saw left me utterly shocked.
In the center of the vast office stood a huge, imposing man, his back to me. He wore an impeccably tailored suit that seemed to enhance his intimidating stature, but it was the darkness of the scene that gripped my heart. As he turned slightly, I glimpsed sharp features—raven-black hair cascading past his shoulders, framing a face that held an unsettling allure. But it was his eyes, glowing a fierce crimson streaked with something predatory, that froze me in place.
And then, horror struck—just beside him lay a figure crumpled on the polished floor, motionless, with unmistakable bite marks on their neck. Blood glistened under the ambient light, creating a stark contrast against the elegance of the room.
Everything collided in my mind—his long, sharp teeth gleamed with a sinister light, while the lifeless gaze of the woman on the floor locked onto mine, filled with terror as the reality of what I witnessed hit me like a tidal wave.
"Get out!" I wanted to scream, to run anywhere but here, but my body refused to respond, transfixed by the nightmare unfolding before my eyes. What kind of place had I stepped into?
Suddenly, the huge man's expression shifted from annoyance to fury at the unexpected intrusion. He prowled toward me, his strides impossibly swift—faster than any human movement I'd ever seen. I stumbled back, terror coursing through my veins, and when I felt the world tilt beneath me, everything went black.
---
The darkness swallowed me whole. In that fleeting moment before complete unconsciousness, I sensed his speed, his power, as he lunged toward me, but then the blackness overtook my vision.
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