Isa eased the door open and peeked inside before stepping softly into the office. She closed it gently behind her, then approached Chris's desk, head lowered, fingers twitching at her sides.
"You… you sent for me, sir?"
"Hn."
Isa glanced up. Chris was swiping across his iPhone screen, his expression grim and unreadable.
Seconds passed in silence, stretching thin and uncomfortable. Isa shifted her weight, heat prickling beneath her dress. She snuck a glance at him—leaned back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, confidence radiating from his stillness.
Pride. The word surfaced uninvited.
She remembered how Mr Johnson had stammered and fumbled with his fingers while speaking to him. She could still hear the icy edge of Chris's voice that day.
Her stomach dipped. I prayed not to end up with this kind of boss… but here I am.
She flicked her eyes toward her wristwatch—barely like a child afraid of being caught.
Still…
Her brow furrowed as she peeked at him, searching his face. But his gaze remained fixed on the phone, obscuring his features.
Am I wrong about him?
Curiosity tugged at her like a thread on her sleeve. She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch a clearer look.
He used to be warm. Always smiling. Always talking.
Isa squinted.
Can time change a person that much? They look so alike. I'm really…
Chris looked up—and their eyes met.
Isa froze, her breath stilled, head tilted mid-thought like a startled deer.
Chris blinked. Tilted his head slightly, raising a brow at her.
Isa snapped her head upright and pressed her lips into a thin line. Her heart thundered in her ears, and sweat beaded at the nape of her neck.
"I… I…" The words tangled in her throat and she lowered her gaze.
Are you out of your mind?! her thoughts screamed while she pinched her fingers together. Goosebumps rose on her arms as Chris set his phone down and leaned deeper into his chair, his gaze fixed on her.
Another stretch of silence passed—so heavy it slowed time itself. Isa dared a glance. He was still staring, his face unreadable.
Is this where I get fired? Did I mess up again already?
She bit the inside of her cheek.
"Introduce yourself," he said at last.
Isa blinked and looked up, startled. "Huh?" She winced immediately. "I mean… yes."
"Introduce yourself," he repeated, picking up his phone once more.
Isa nodded quickly, clearing her throat. "I… I'm Isabella. I grew up in Eldridge City and attended Silvercrest High Scho—"
"I'm not asking for your biography," he cut in coolly as he glanced at her. "Just your full name."
Isa sighed inwardly. "…Isabella Smith," she said, quieter.
I know, Chris thought.
"Fine, Miss Smith," he said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Since you're my new assistant, I assume you're familiar with your job description?"
Isa nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good." His eyes swept across his desk—the laptop, documents, pens. "Let's begin." He paused. "You're aware of the company's international exhibition?"
"Yes."
"Get the VIP guest reports from the marketing manager. Build the schedule and email the guests. No meetings past 6 p.m.—and I want the full schedule on my desk by six tomorrow. Then collect the exhibition report from the lead curator. Everything should be flawless." He glanced at her. "Is that clear?"
Isa blinked, then gave a nervous, lopsided smile. "Ye… yes."
"Good. You're dismissed."
She opened her mouth, then shut it again when he glanced her way. Nodding quickly, she backed out of the room.
Once outside, Isa leaned against the door, exhaling shakily.
"How could he dump all that on me on my first day?" she whispered, smacking her chest. "I haven't even been trained yet! I don't even have any idea how to create a schedule!"
She buried her face in her palms.
God, I don't even know who the lead curator and marketing manager are… He didn't even give me a chance to ask questions…
Dragging her feet, she returned to her desk just meters away from the CEO's office. She slumped into her chair and cradled her face in her hands.
What should I do now?
Inside the office, Chris rose and walked toward the glass wall that angled toward his assistant's desk. With his hands tucked in his pockets, he exhaled slowly, watching her tap anxiously at her desk, eyes blankly fixed on the laptop screen. She was clearly lost.
This is cruel, Chris rubbed his forehead. He scoffed softly as her earlier expression flashed through his mind—her head cocked, her eyes searching his face with curiosity.
How silly. He clicked his tongue. Even afraid, she was bold enough to seek answers—bold enough to suspect who he was.
"And that makes her dangerous," he muttered.
'I… I am Isabella. I grew up in Eldridge City and attended Silvercrest High School…'
Was she trying to reconnect… or test me?
He replayed her soft sigh and the defeated look in her eyes.
What would she do if she found out his identity?
Chris slid his other hand into his pocket. A pang of guilt twisted in his chest as he watched her scratch her head with a pen, looking utterly lost.
He had once imagined their reunion—how he'd ask her why she never returned to Silvercrest, if she'd overcome her stage fright, how life had treated her since.
But this wasn't what he imagined.
He had buried recognition beneath indifference, pushed her away with impossible expectations.
But that's who I am now. Indifferent.
Chris turned from the glass, but her image remained in his mind.
With her laptop clutched tightly to her chest, Isa walked slowly toward a group of employees gathered around one of the long work desks. They were laughing and chatting, completely at ease.
A red-haired woman lounged in a swivel chair, rocking it side to side while leaning further into its back. Two others sat casually on the desk itself, and two more stood beside them, half-blocking the low divider that separated one station from the next. Behind them, rows of identical desks—with their monitors, half-shut laptops, scattered files, and blinking desk tickers—sat quiet and abandoned. The cluttered calm of the office made it clear: they'd all left their work to join the redhead's corner.
Isa cleared her throat as she approached, her head bowed.
"Good morning."
Heads turned toward her. Isa forced a nervous smile.
"Hello," Ryan greeted, waving with a wide grin.
She dipped her head again, her smile faltering.
"I'm... I'm Isabella," she stammered, noticing the puzzled stares. "The new staff. I mean, the CEO's PA."
The air shifted. Some blinked, others raised their brows in disbelief.
"The... the CEO's PA?" Liana stuttered, pointing at her as if she'd said she was a ghost.
Ryan chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Told you guys he was hiring a PA," he said, as if proud to have predicted it.
The red-haired woman reached out a hand with a smile. "Hi, Isabella. I'm Maya."
Isa shook her hand with a forced grin. "Thanks." She quickly pulled her hand back and hugged her laptop tighter, like it was her shield against the world.
Unease twisted in her gut under the weight of their stares.
Is it wrong to be the CEO's PA? Did I just land the wrong job?
It's obvious they're all afraid of him, she thought. Even I have to admit—he's terrifying. Demanding.
She had already witnessed a flash of his cruelty. For a moment, she'd nearly walked away—regretting ever applying for the position.
But what choice do I have? she had asked herself earlier.
His words echoed like a fire alarm in her head:"Everything must be flawless. I want the schedule completed by six tomorrow."
Focus, she reminded herself, forcing a smile at the group.
"I need your help," she said.
"Oh!" Maya tilted her head, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "I know. How can we help?"
Isa let out a relieved breath. "I need to find the lead curator and the marketing manager. And… I could use help creating a professional schedule for the CEO."
"Why should we help you with that?" Liana snapped, arms crossed, chin raised.
"I'm sorry," Isa murmured. "I just… I don't know how to do it yet. Today is my second day."
Maya scoffed softly and nodded. "You seem tense, Isabella," she said, clicking her tongue. "Let me guess—he dumped a big task on you, told you to figure it out on your own, and warned you to make it flawless?"
Isa's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"
Daniel pulled out a chair and sat down. "He's demanding."
"But still…" Isa sighed, lowering her head. "I thought I'd get proper training. Instead, I just got instructions. Why?" she whispered, voice trembling.
Ryan gently patted her shoulder and wrapped one arm around her neck. "You'll get used to it. We all have." He gestured around. "We get pressured too, but we're paid well. That helps." He grinned.
Isa sniffled, nodding faintly. "Thanks…"
"I'm Ryan—the lead artist," he offered. "That's Daniel, the marketing manager. Maya's the lead curator. And Liam—" he gestured toward the stern lady "—is the logistics coordinator."
"Oh wow!" Isa exclaimed, her face brightening. "I'm so glad I found you all. I thought it would be tough."
Maya clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Do you really think you can last long in this job, girl?"
"Huh?" Isa blinked, her heart skipping.
"I'm just being honest. He just dump a task on you with no guidlines. That's not a task someone gives if they want you to succeed—a sign he doesn't actually want a PA."
"Wh-what?"
"Gosh, Maya!" Ryan hissed through clenched teeth. "What the hell are you saying?"
"I've been here a long time, Ryan," Maya said coolly. "None of his PAs lasted more than two weeks."
"Then why… why hire me?" Isa stammered.
"Don't mind her," Ryan said, giving Maya a sharp glare. "She talks nonsense."
"Maya is right, Ryan," Liana cut in, throwing a look his way.
"I don't know why he hired you," Maya said, sighing. "Just like I don't know why he hired the others—only to fire them soon after. It's... kind of mysterious. I think he just doesn't want anyone close to him. He's like a ghost—no family, no warmth. Sometimes I wonder if he's even human."
Maya stood and gently took Isa's free hand. "Don't feel bad. I'm telling you this so you'll have a plan B. Don't put all your hope into this job." She rubbed Isa's hand reassuringly.
"But…" Isa's voice broke as tears welled up again. She bit her lip, trying to hold it back.
Why am I so unlucky? she thought, wiping her tears.
"I just want you to make me proud, Isa," she remembered her mother saying. She pictured her mom's proud smile, the way she'd told their neighbors about Isa's new job and her apartment. She had promised herself that day—no matter how tough it got, she'd hold onto this job.
Isa turned away, her shoulders trembling as more tears spilled. She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry," Maya said flatly, though it sounded more like a dismissal than comfort.
"Gosh!" Ryan gritted his teeth and sat on a chair.
"Well," Liana shrugged, "Maya's only telling the truth. Isabella needed to hear it."
Isa clenched her free hand into a fist. From the moment Liana saw her, she had sensed the cold stare. And that snap when she asked for help?
Are they doing this on purpose?
She sniffled and wiped her cheeks one last time. Her chest burned with humiliation, her nerves jittered, and her lips trembled.
I'll do my best and find out the truth later.
What if the previous PAs were the problem?
I have my flaws too, she admitted, then shook her head.
But I won't let this job slip away. I'll fight to keep it.
Isa smiled—small but determined—as if she had already won a silent war. She turned to Maya, her eyes glowing with a spark of resolve.
"I'll need the exhibition reports from you," she said. Then, turning to Daniel, "And the VIP guest list, please."
Finally, she looked at Ryan and gave a small bow. "Could you help me figure out how to organize the CEO's meeting schedule?"
A hush fell over the group as everyone stared at her.
Liana sneered and walked away. Isa threw her a look, lips curving into a sly smile.