Chapter Three

Elena's POV

I wake up early, before my alarm. I lie there with my eyes fixed on the ceiling. My heart is beating in my ears, so fast. Today is the day I go to work as Dominic Blackwood's assistant. I go to bed, wear the grey skirt and white shirt Percival had laid out for me, and tie my hair into a neat ponytail. I attempt to look nonchalant in the mirror.

"Deep breaths," I say softly.

I clip the earpiece onto my right ear. It makes a gentle click and Percival speaks. "Good morning, Ms. Hart. You have thirty minutes until you go out to the conference room. Follow my lead exactly."

"I'm ready," I respond, trying not to quiver.

I enter the hallway. Castillo, the guard, says hello. I nod and head in the direction of the elevator. The metal walls that mirror back at me remind me once again that I am not yet home in the old life. I exhale.

The elevator door opens on the twenty-fifth floor. I emerge and regard the long hallway with glass on all sides. I remember Percival's directions: "Turn left, then right, then left again. Go to the big wooden doors."

I do it just that way and find myself in the conference room. I stand outside, smooth my skirt, fluff out my blouse. I put my hand on the door handle. My heart racing.

Percival whispers, "Open the door and go in. Go to the chair to the right of Mr. Blackwood."

I breathe in and push the door open. The room falls silent. All eyes are on me. I move across the width of the table, my legs growing heavier with each step. I spot my chair. I sit and place my hands in my lap.

"Good morning, Ms. Blackwood," the chairman says, his voice courteous but determined.

"Good morning," I manage, my voice frail. I catch a peek at Dominic. He glances at me, then at the documents on his desk. No warm greeting. Just a nod.

The chairman clears his throat. "We will begin with the Q1 earnings report."

Whispers. A finger pushes on a remote control and a graph appears on the screen. I push my papers under the chair. Percival whispers, "Listen. Say nothing until I speak."

I nod, though he can't see me.

The CFO stands up and talks about revenue growth and profit margins. I jot down some figures on my legal pad. My pen scratch. My palms sweat. I memorize the sequence.

Ten minutes on, the chairman interrupts, "Now then the merger proposal with Astell & Co. Mr. Blackwood?"

Dominic entwines his fingers. "Thank you. We've perused the draft contract. I'd like to take an individual clause under section 14.2 through."

He pushes a printed sheet across to me. I take it with some apprehension. My hands tremble. I turn to page eighteen.

Percival's whisper: "Where is the interest cap? Find the percentage."

I read it. "Interest rate cap: five percent." My heart freezes. I recall Astell's usual cap is three point five percent. I gulp.

I put my hand up. "Chairman?" My voice soothes. Heads turn towards me.

"Ms. Blackwood?" asks the chairman.

I stand. "On page eighteen, section 14.2, the five percent limit. Astell's reports mention a three point five percent limit. Accepting five percent would cost us two million euros in five years."

Silence. The chairman consults his copy. He points to Dominic. Dominic leans back, arms folded.

Percival's whisper: "Good. Hold firm."

I inhale. "I propose that we modify the clause to three point five percent according to their terms."

The attorney frowns and scrolls down his laptop. "Let me check." He pecks away. Two seconds later he glances up. "She is correct. The clause must be three point five percent. We will modify prior to signing."

Relief floods me. I take a seat. My hands are shaking, but I steady myself and keep my hands still. The chairman smiles. "Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. That was a critical catch."

I nod curtly and return to my notes. My chest is light. I catch Dominic's eye. He nods curtly in approval, and then proceeds to the next agenda item. No smile. Approval only.

The conversation moves on to the marketing budget. I make a few scribbled notes. Percival grumbles something about a lot of figures I haven't and the justification for new projects. I listen intently, nodding occasionally.

It's twenty minutes before the legal advisor mentions an indemnity clause. The chairman says, "Section seven of the advertising contract. Comments?"

Percival's quiet reminder that we ought to do a punctuation check.

I flip to page seven. I read. My eyes widen in shock. The clause reads: "The company shall be liable for all damages resulting from the content of advertisements." No comma. Without a comma, there is unlimited liability. A comma after "liable" would make liability limited to actual damages.

I stand up again. The chairman sighs. "Ms. Blackwood?"

I say, "In subsection seven, placing a comma after 'liable' clearly indicates that liability extends only to actual damages, not all conceivable damage. This change could quite possibly save the company a huge legal risk."

The heads turn. The lawyer looks over his screen. His eyes go wide. "Yes. There must be a comma there. Thank you."

I sit, my face flushed. Dominic raises an eyebrow in recognition.

The rest of the agenda is minor legal changes and human resource comments. I mark the highlights. I feel more at ease. The rhythm of the meeting does not scare me anymore. My hands still shake, but I concentrate on the notes.

The chairman looks at his watch. "Unless there is further business, this meeting is adjourned."

A whisper of "Thank you." Chairs scraping on the floor as individuals stand up. I silently close my book and put away my pen. Percival's whispered compliment: "Excellent work today."

I manage a weak smile.

Dominic stays at the head of the table. He collects his papers. He turns to me and says, "Ms. Blackwood, if you please." His tone is neutral but courteous.

I stand and accompany him out of the conference room. The hallway lights are blinding. I take a whiff of the antiseptic air.

Percival drops in beside me as we reach the outdoors. "You did wonderful," he says quietly.

"Thanks," I reply, voice more level now. "I never thought I'd be speaking out so fast."

He smiles. "Listen to your instincts. You were hired for a purpose."

I nod. "I hope I can do it."

He squeezes my shoulder. "You already have."

We reach the elevator. The doors open. I get in with Percival and two directors. The doors shut. They talk in hushed tones about the looming merger. I eavesdrop, I learn.

The doors open on my level, I step out. Castillo waits by. I grin at him. "Thank you."

He bows. "Water or something you'd like?"

"Water, please." I stuff my notebook under my arm.

He returns with a bottle and a glass. I drink a mouthful, feeling the cold liquid relax my dry throat.

I push the door of my suite open and close it behind me. I lean against it and exhale. My legs tremble. My heartbeat stabilizes.

My phone rings. My mother has sent me a message: How did it go?

I smile and respond by text: I found two errors. They will save millions. I am proud.

I fall onto the bed and stretch out. My skirt is constricting from sitting for so long, and I unbutton the top button and lie back. I gaze at the ceiling.

I take into account Dominic's nods and the chairman's words of praise. I take into account Percival's assurances. I take into account the second when at last I said the words and the falling silence.

I whisper, "I can do this."

I take off my shoes and get into the blanket. I consider my mother in her hospital bed. I will visit her tomorrow morning before work. I smile as I imagine her smiling at my success.

My phone rings again. A tweet from Arcadia Business News: "Blackwood merger on track—new Mrs. Blackwood catches critical mistake in draft." I scroll and check out my name. I get a rush.

I close my eyes and relive the day in my head. I wonder what tomorrow will bring—new challenges, new mistakes, new tests.

I do kno

w one thing: I will face them. I will make them see that I am here to stay.

And I will make Dominic Blackwood see my worth.