Chapter 5- The Man They Feared

Anna's POV

The waiting area on the 58th floor smelled like expensive leather and quiet money. Emily had left me there twenty minutes ago with a reassuring smile and a promise she’d check back soon. I sat in a chair that probably cost more than my monthly rent, hands folded in my lap, trying not to let my leg bounce with nervous energy. Around me the office hummed. People moved with purpose. No one glanced my way. I was invisible here, which was both a relief and terrifying. A woman at the front desk typed something, her expression never changing. The elevator dinged. Someone walked past in a suit that probably cost more than my car. Everything here was designed to remind you that you didn’t belong. I checked my watch. 9:15 a.m. The interview was supposed to be at 9 a.m. I told myself this was normal. Important people ran late. Important companies made you wait. It was a test, maybe. To see if you’d get frustrated. If you’d leave. I stayed.

Andrea’s Pov

In the conference room the presentation was falling apart in real time, and everyone knew it. I sat at the head of the table, listening to Director Chen stumble through his explanation of the Eco-City Project’s current design. Flawed. Inefficient. Missing the mark in at least four critical areas. His team had been working on this for eight months. Eight months, and this is what they brought me. The room was packed—Chen, Wu from operations, Lisa from project management, and two junior architects who looked like they wanted the floor to open and swallow them whole.

“The heat island mitigation strategy relies primarily on vegetation,” Chen was saying, clicking to the next slide. “The trees will provide adequate cooling once they’re mature—”

I stopped him without raising my voice. “How long is adequate?”

He blinked. “Ten to fifteen years, sir.”

“The project opens in four years.”

“Yes, but—”

“So for the first decade of operation, residents will experience heat levels that exceed acceptable standards. That’s the trade-off you’re proposing?”

Chen’s face went pale. Director Wu shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening. The project manager, a younger woman named Lisa, started making notes like she was transcribing a court proceeding. She understood what I was doing. Identifying every weakness so there was no ambiguity about what needed fixing.

“We could accelerate the planting schedule,” Chen offered weakly.

“You could,” I said. “Or you could actually solve the problem instead of hoping it fixes itself in fifteen years.” I leaned back in my chair and let the silence do its work. “What about water management? The environmental impact assessment flagged flooding concerns during monsoon season. How does your current design handle that?”

Chen fumbled through an explanation that made it worse. By the time he finished, I had four specific problems that needed solving and a design team that clearly wasn’t equipped to solve them.

“You have two weeks to present a revised approach,” I said. “One that actually addresses these concerns. Bring me something better, or we restart this project from scratch. Which means pushing the timeline back and burning through additional budget. I’m sure the board will enjoy explaining that to the investors.”

No one said anything. They just sat there, absorbing the message embedded in my words: Fail again, and you’re done. I stood. The meeting was over. As I reached the door, my secretary, Mr. Kim appeared. “Sir, the applicants for the Eco-City Project lead position are here for interviews. Should I send the first one in?”

I paused. “Where?”

“Your office, sir. Whenever you’re ready.”

I nodded and left the conference room, hearing the collective exhale behind me as soon as the door closed.

My office was exactly as I had left it, everything in its place, nothing unnecessary. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. My desk clear except for the stack of applicant folders Kim had prepared. I sat down and opened the first one.

The credentials were solid enough. Five years of experience. Decent portfolio. No red flags. I made a note and moved to the second folder. This one was thinner. Fewer projects listed. But there was something in the work—a precision that most architects twice her age didn’t bother cultivating. I flipped through her designs again, studying the way she solved problems. Not flashy. Not revolutionary. Just smart. Efficient. Like someone who understood that good design wasn’t about impressing people. It was about making things work.

I looked at her photo and stopped. Something flickered. A memory that wasn’t quite a memory. Just a feeling, like catching three notes of a song you used to know. I frowned, tilting the photo under the light, searching for something I couldn’t name. Her face was familiar in a way that didn’t make sense. I had never met her. I was certain of that. But something in the shape of her eyes, the line of her jaw, pulled at me anyway. Her name was Anna Li. Twenty-six years old. Born in Shanghai. Architecture degree from Huazhong. She had worked for three different firms in four years. Not ideal, but the reasons listed were layoffs and restructuring, not her fault. I stared at the photograph for longer than I should have.

Nothing came. No recognition. Just that strange, unsettling pull in my chest, like déjà vu with teeth.

“Sir?” Kim appeared in my doorway. “The first applicant is ready.”

I closed the folder and set it aside. “Send her in.”

As Kim turned to leave, I found myself reaching back for Anna’s file. I opened it again, looking at that photo. There was something there. Something I was missing. Five years of running a company. Five years of not having time for anything except work and the constant weight of my father’s expectations. Five years since a night I still couldn’t fully remember, fragments only, a stranger’s voice, a hotel room, morning light through windows I had never opened. Five years was a long time to forget someone’s face. I closed the folder and placed it on top of the stack.

The door to my office opened. And the first applicant walked in.