Chapter 4

Tuesday morning felt like stepping into someone else's life.

Shayla stood in front of her bathroom mirror, smoothing down the same black pencil skirt she'd worn to the interview yesterday—freshly pressed this time, paired with a cream-colored blouse and her black blazer. Professional. Put-together. The kind of woman who had her life figured out.

Except she absolutely did not have her life figured out.

She still couldn't believe it. Couldn't wrap her mind around the email that had arrived less than twenty-four hours after her interview, the words practically burning themselves into her memory:

“Dear Ms. Hale, We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the position of Personal Assistant at GC Group of Companies. Your start date is Tuesday…”

Employed.

She'd been employed.

After three months of applications that went nowhere, after countless rejections and dead-end interviews, after starting to believe that maybe she was destined to spend the rest of her life pouring coffee and stocking shelves—this.

A real job. A career. The kind of opportunity that could change everything.

"Momma, you're staring at yourself again!" Ayven's voice called from the kitchen, breaking through her daze.

Shayla blinked, realizing she'd been standing frozen with her mascara wand halfway to her lashes for God knows how long. She finished her makeup quickly, grabbed her bag—a simple black tote that would have to do until she could afford something nicer—and headed out to find her son already dressed and eating cereal at their small kitchen table.

"I told you, Momma," he said around a mouthful of Cheerios, grinning so wide she could see the gap where he'd lost a tooth last week. "I knew you'd get it."

She had. He really had.

Yesterday, when she'd opened that email with trembling hands right there in the school pickup line, Ayven had screamed so loud that three other parents had turned to stare. He'd jumped up and down, fist-pumping the air, shouting "I KNEW IT! I TOLD YOU!" until Shayla had to quiet him down before they caused a scene.

The memory made her smile even now.

And then there was Ruby.

Shayla had called her later that night, after Ayven was tucked into bed, needing to share the news with someone who would understand the magnitude of what this meant. Ruby had answered on the second ring, and the moment Shayla said "I got the job," her best friend had screamed so loud that Shayla had to pull the phone away from her ear.

"I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Ruby had shrieked, and Shayla could hear her jumping around wherever she was. "Oh my God, Shay, this is it! This is your moment! You're going to kill it, you're going to be amazing, oh my God I'm so proud of you I could cry—"

"Please don't cry," Shayla had laughed, wiping at her own eyes. "If you cry, I'll cry, and I've already done enough of that today."

They'd stayed on the phone for over an hour, Ruby firing off questions about the salary (generous, almost absurdly so), the benefits (health insurance, paid time off, things Shayla hadn't had in years), and what she'd wear on her first day. By the time they hung up, Shayla's cheeks hurt from smiling.

Ruby had texted later—around midnight—apologizing that she wouldn't be able to help with the morning school run. She had a crucial client meeting with some cosmetics exec from overseas who was only in town for twenty-four hours. “So sorry mama bear. You got this though. Kill it tomorrow. Love you”.

Shayla hadn't even seen it as a problem. She could handle the drop-off. She could handle anything today.

"You ready, baby?" she asked, rinsing Ayven's bowl and setting it in the sink.

"Born ready." He grabbed his backpack—already packed, because of course he'd prepared it the night before—and followed her to the door.

---

The morning air was crisp as they walked to the bus stop, Ayven's hand warm in hers. He chatted the whole way, asking questions about her new job, what the office looked like, if her boss would be nice, if she'd have her own desk.

"I'll have my own office, actually," Shayla said, still marveling at the words even as she spoke them.

Ayven's eyes went wide. "Your own office? Like, with a door and everything?"

"With a door and everything."

"That's so cool, Momma. You're like a real businesswoman now."

She laughed. "I've always been a real businesswoman, baby. I just have a better business now."

The school bus pulled up right on time—miracles did happen—and Ayven gave her a quick hug before bounding up the steps. He turned at the top, waving dramatically like he was heading off to war instead of second grade.

"Good luck, Momma! You're going to be the best PA ever!"

"Thank you, baby. Have a good day at school."

The doors closed, and the bus pulled away, leaving Shayla standing on the sidewalk with her heart full and her nerves jangling.

She had to get to work. Her first day. Her new life.

No pressure.

---

The taxi ride to GC Group of Companies felt both too long and too short.

Shayla paid the driver—budgeting was still tight, but at least now she knew a real paycheck was coming—and stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the massive glass tower that was now her workplace.

Her workplace.

God, that felt surreal.

She took a deep breath, straightened her blazer, and walked through those gleaming glass doors like she belonged there.

Because she did. She'd earned this.

The receptionist from yesterday—the one with the sharp smile and sharper bob—looked up as Shayla approached, and this time her expression shifted into something warmer. "Ms. Hale, good morning. Welcome to the GC Group of Companies." She handed over a sleek ID badge with Shayla's photo already printed on it. "Ms. Morales is waiting for you on the executive floor. Twentieth floor, elevators on your right."

"Thank you." Shayla clipped the badge to her blazer, feeling oddly official, and headed for the elevators.

The ride up was smooth and silent, just her and the soft hum of machinery. She watched the numbers climb—10, 15, 18, 20—and then the doors slid open onto a hallway that screamed understated luxury. Soft gray carpet, recessed lighting, modern art on the walls that probably cost more than her rent.

Catherine Morales was waiting near the elevator, looking exactly as intimidating as she had during the interview. Same severe bun, same sharp suit—navy today instead of charcoal—same expression that gave away nothing.

"Ms. Hale. Right on time." She extended a hand, and Shayla shook it. "Follow me. I'll show you to your office."

Your office.

Those words still didn't feel real.

Catherine led her down the hallway, their heels clicking in sync against the polished floors. They passed several closed doors—conference rooms, other offices, Shayla wasn't sure—before stopping in front of a frosted glass door with a sleek metal nameplate that read ”Personal Assistant to the CEO”.

Catherine pushed the door open, and Shayla stepped inside.

And nearly stopped breathing.

The office was spacious. Not just adequate—spacious. A large desk sat near the windows, a sleek ergonomic chair behind it, shelves built into the walls, a small seating area with a modern couch and two chairs. Everything was clean lines and neutral tones, professional but not cold.

It was perfect.

"This is your workspace," Catherine said, moving to stand beside the desk. "You'll have access to all necessary systems, and IT will be up shortly to get you set up with your login credentials." She gestured to the far wall—a glass partition, dark and opaque, separating Shayla's office from what lay beyond. "That's the CEO's office. The glass is tinted for privacy, but you'll have direct access through that door." She pointed to a nearly invisible door cut into the glass.

Shayla nodded, taking it all in. "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." Catherine's lips quirked in something that might have been a smile. "The job is demanding. Your predecessor lasted six months."

That was... not comforting.

"I understand," Shayla said anyway, because what else could she say?

Catherine handed her a tablet—sleek, expensive, already loaded with documents. "These are the details of your position. Responsibilities, expectations, protocols. You'll want to review them before the CEO arrives. He's expected at nine-thirty."

Shayla glanced at her watch. 8:47 AM. That gave her forty-three minutes.

"He'll want to meet you personally," Catherine continued. "I'll come get you when he's ready. Until then, familiarize yourself with the role. If you have questions, my extension is programmed into your desk phone."

"Thank you, Ms. Morales."

"Catherine is fine." She moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold. "And Ms. Hale? Welcome to GC Group of Companies. I hope you'll last longer than the others."

Then she was gone, leaving Shayla alone in her new office.

For a moment, she just stood there, trying to absorb the reality of it all. Then she set her bag down, settled into the chair behind her desk—God, it was comfortable—and opened the tablet Catherine had given her.

Time to see what she'd signed up for.