chapter265
Thalassa missed her transit stop and had to double back on foot, her heart racing as she watched the precious minutes of the morning slip away. By the time she reached the corporate lobby, the executive elevator doors were beginning to slide shut. With a final burst of energy, she signaled for the hold.
“Please, hold the elevator!”
She managed to slip inside just before the doors sealed. The space was occupied by two men in impeccable business suits. One of them, Lysander, radiated a silent, formidable authority that seemed to lower the temperature of the small cabin.
Thalassa’s breath hitched, the adrenaline of the sprint meeting the cold reality of her situation. She caught Lysander’s unreadable expression and instinctively adjusted her posture, turning slightly to face the panel, her back stiff with a sudden, sharp awareness of her error. Had she realized this was the President’s private lift, she would have waited for the next one rather than risk such a breathless entrance.
“Ms. Everhart,” David said, breaking the silence with a calm but pointed observation. “You are behind schedule.”
Thalassa checked her phone. It was 9:10 AM. “I sincerely apologize, David. I missed my stop this morning. It won't happen again.”
David offered a neutral nod, while Lysander remained a silent, statue-like presence behind her. The aura of the office’s top floor felt more oppressive than usual, the quiet intensity of Lysander’s focus making every second feel like a professional audit.
When the elevator chime signaled their arrival, Thalassa stepped aside, allowing the executives to exit first. She watched Lysander’s retreating figure as he headed toward the presidential suite, letting out a long, quiet breath before heading to her own station in the secretarial wing.
She took a moment to center herself. Facing a leader as demanding as Lysander every day required a level of mental fortitude she was still building. But before she could fully recalibrate, her desk phone rang.
“Ms. Everhart, please prepare coffee for Mr. Sinclair,” David requested.
“Understood. I’ll be there in a moment,” she replied, immediately shifting into professional mode.
She entered the CEO’s office with a steady hand, placing the coffee on the mahogany desk. Lysander was immersed in a set of project binders, his signature flowing across the pages with forceful precision. He didn't look up, yet the weight of his attention was palpable.
“Mr. Sinclair, your coffee,” she said softly, preparing to withdraw.
“I was informed you were the first to arrive at your previous assignment yesterday,” Lysander said, his low voice cutting through the silence.
Thalassa paused, carefully choosing her words. “Yesterday was my orientation phase at Leossa Tech. I believe in establishing a strong professional presence from day one.”
Lysander closed the binder and finally met her gaze, his dark eyes searching hers. “And does today’s performance reflect the presence you intend to establish here?”
The question was sharp, a direct challenge to her reliability. Thalassa met his gaze, her voice quiet but firm. “Mr. Sinclair, the delay was an unforeseen transit error. I value my role here, and I intend to demonstrate that through my work throughout the rest of the day.”
Lysander’s expression didn't soften. He leaned back, his sharp features framed by the high-backed executive chair. “It seems,” he remarked with a touch of cold irony, “that you find Leopold’s corporate culture a more suitable fit for your professional style.”
The mention of Leopold sent a jolt of tension through Thalassa. It wasn't just about a ten-minute delay; it was a question of loyalty and standard. She realized then that in Lysander’s world, there was no room for error—only results.