Chapter 3

Elena’s POV

I stood outside the Hart Global Enterprises building at exactly 9:45 in the morning, staring up at sixty floors of steel and glass. The building looked cold. Like it didn’t care who walked through its doors or why they even bothered. Like it was already used to another body in a suit, testing their ambition.

My palms were sweating. I wiped them against my skirt without thinking, then immediately froze.What if they were still damp when I had to shake Jonathan Hart’s hand? Oh dear heavens!

“Get it together El,” I muttered under my breath.

A woman in a navy power suit walked past me, her sharp heels making “kluck kluck” as she did. She glanced at me like she could smell the hesitation. Like she already knew I was standing here psyching myself up instead of striding in like I owned the place. I ignored her and pushed through the revolving doors.

The lobby hit me all at once. From the marble floors to the pretty high ceilings, everything felt intimidating. Abstract art mounted on the walls with clean lines, and bold colors, probably worth more than my yearly salary. You could easily perceive the luxury that oozed from the place.

At the center sat a massive reception desk that looked like it belonged on a spaceship. Behind it was a woman who didn’t look up when I approached. Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.

“Hi,” I said, forcing my voice to not echo my fears. “ I am Elena Rivers, and I have an interview at ten.” I caught a faint smile played on her lips as she typed a few more seconds, then nodded, before looking up at me.

“Fifty-eighth floor. Someone will meet you at the elevator.”

“Thank you.” I nodded too, returning her ingenuine smile and walked in the direction she gave.

I walked toward the elevator bank, my heels sounding louder than I liked. Once I entered the elevator, its doors slid shut behind me. As it rose, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored wall. Black skirt. Cream blouse. Hair pulled back neatly. Calm face. No cracks. I was perfect.

I’d researched Jonathan Hart obsessively. He was a fifty four year old self-made billionaire. He had Hart Global into a monster after inheriting a modest investment firm. I already knew he was a divorcee. Daniel wouldn’t shut up about his mom and how she and his father were suddenly estranged before her demise.

The elevator dinged. I was on the fifty-eighth floor. When the doors opened, I saw a woman waiting with a clipboard tucked against her chest. She looked like someone in her mid-forties. She then wore an unreadable expression and I was beginning to think if that was part of the training they gave them here.

“Elena Rivers?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Patricia. Mr. Hart’s assistant. Follow me.”

She turned immediately and started walking, with these quick steps that I literally felt I was jogging to keep up with her pace.

The hallway was lined with glass-walled conference rooms. Inside, people sat around polished tables, had their laptops open, and wore faces that looked tense. Everyone looked busy. Everyone looked like they belonged.

Patricia stopped at a door at the end of the hall.

“Wait here. Mr. Hart will call you in shortly.” Then she walked away.

I stood alone in front of the door, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I flexed my fingers, unclenched my jaw, forced my breathing to slow. This was actually insane.

What kind of person walks into her ex-fiancé’s father’s office with a revenge plan and a resume? The door opened before I could spiral any further.

“Miss Rivers?” a deep voice called and I looked up to meet the eyes of the father of my ex

Jonathan Hart was taller than I expected. At least six-two. He had broad shoulders, and the gray suit he was in, fit him perfectly. His hair was silver, combed back neatly. Then his blue-gray eyes looked cold, accessing me like I was the daily data he dealt with. He looked exactly like Daniel. Except that he looked colder and older.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s me.”

“Come in.”

He stepped aside, and I walked into his office.

The entire back wall was glass, overlooking the city. His desk was massive but almost empty. Just a laptop. A leather folder. No photos. No personal items. Nothing that suggested a life outside this room.

“Sit,” he said, and I obeyed without a word.

He took his seat and opened the folder. My resume stared back at me like it was being judged along with my soul.

“Georgetown undergrad,” he said, scanning. “Wharton MBA. Goldman Sachs for five years. Hamilton Partners for two.” He looked up.

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, feeling elated. It was a thing of pride for my resume to be considered impressive by Jonathan Hart himself.

“Why do you want to work here?” he asked straight up, without any pleasantries.

“Because Hart Global is the best in the industry,” I said. “And I want to learn from the best.”

“Flattery won’t get you very far here.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true. Your acquisition of Meridian Tech last year was brilliant. You saw value where everyone else saw decline.”

He squinted his eyes and pulled back a bit. I couldn’t tell if that was out of curiosity or if he was impressed again.

“You follow our acquisitions?”

“I follow all major acquisitions. It’s how you stay sharp.”

“What else have you learned?”

“That most firms play it safe. You don’t. You take calculated risks.”

He leaned back more. “Tell me about a risk you’ve taken.”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Two years ago, I pushed for an investment in a startup losing money. My team wanted to walk away. I argued for a five-million-dollar stake.”

“And?”

“G****e acquired them six months later for seventy million.”

“How much did you make?”

“Fifty thousand.”

His eyebrow lifted. “That’s it?”

“That’s how large firms work. The partners profit. Analysts get bonuses.”

“And that didn’t bother you?”

“It bothered me enough to leave.”

He nodded once and made a note.

“So why did you leave Goldman Sachs?” And just like that, the question I had been dreading, dropped.

“Personal reasons.” I replied, unsure of how best to answer. He leaned back again.

“What kind?”

“Family issues. I needed a reset.”

He studied me. “You moved from New York to Philadelphia. Now you’re applying in DC. That’s a pattern.”

“I like new challenges.”

“Or you’re running.”

I met his gaze. “Everyone’s running from something, Mr. Hart. The question is whether they can still perform.”

He didn’t reply but he didn’t react either. His gaze just remained fixed on me, studying me for a while.

“Where is the market heading in six months?” he finally asked after a minute or two of silence.

“Tech is overvalued. AI is bloated. There will be a correction.”

“Everyone says AI is the future.”

“It is. But not every company will survive. Smart money waits.”

“So where would you invest now?”

“Healthcare. Infrastructure. Boring sectors people ignore.”

“This job requires long hours.”

“I don’t have much else going on. Work is my focus.”

“Why?”

“Because work makes sense. Everything else is noise.”

I didn’t know if my eyes were playing with me but I think my eyes caught a faint smile of pride. But I wasn’t sure because when I tried to catch it again, it was his cold face I saw.

“I have other candidates,” he said. “Why you?” I leaned forward.

“They want a job. I want to build something. You don’t need loyalty. You need hunger.” This time, I was sure of the smile. But it came off as sarcastic. He then stood up, and stretched his hand towards me.

“Thank you for your time. Patricia will reach out to let you know the result of the interview.” He said. I nodded and shook his hand and walked out.

Three days later, I was at my desk at Hamilton Partners, the small firm where I worked when my phone rang. The call was from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Miss Rivers? This is Patricia from Hart Global Enterprises.”

My heart stopped. “Yes. Hi.” I replied quickly and swallowed.

“Mr. Hart would like to offer you the position of Senior Financial Analyst. The starting salary is one hundred and seventy-five thousand, plus performance bonuses. Can you start in two weeks?”

I closed my eyes and exhaled in joy. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“Excellent. I’ll email you the offer letter and onboarding paperwork this afternoon. Welcome to Hart Global, Miss Rivers.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I hung up and sat there, staring at my computer screen. I was in.