First Day, First Enemy

Hayes Corp tower looked bigger up close.

Elma stood across the street at 8:55 AM, clutching her bag like it was the only thing keeping her together. The strap dug into her shoulder, but she didn’t loosen it. If she let go, she was afraid she’d turn and run back to the street she’d come from. The building gleamed, glass and steel reflecting a sky she’d never thought she’d have access to. It was nothing like the broken-down district she came from. Here, the sidewalks were clean. The air smelled like coffee and money and something else—cleaning solution, sharp and sterile. The kind of place where people walked fast because time was valuable and nobody looked at the ground too long. Nobody lingered. Nobody sat on the curb.

You’re late, a voice said behind her.

Elma turned too fast, her heart lurching into her throat. It was Destiny, breathless, hair damp from running, holding two cups of coffee in a cardboard carrier like she’d fought for them. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with that reckless energy that always made Elma feel like she could breathe a little easier.

I told you I’d walk you, Destiny said, shoving a cup into Elma’s hand. The heat seeped through the paper, grounding her. You look like you’re going to faint.

I’m not fainting, Elma said, but her hands shook anyway. The cup rattled against her fingers, sloshing a little onto the lid. What if Joseph sees me? What if he tells them I’m a liar before I even start? What if they already know and this is just a way to humiliate me in front of everyone? What if I walk in there and it’s over before it begins?

Then you tell the truth faster than he can lie, Destiny said simply. No hesitation. Like she’d been thinking about it all night, turning it over in her head until it was solid. Now go. 9 AM sharp. And Elma—keep your chin up. Let them look. Let them talk. You’re here because you deserve to be. Don’t let them make you forget that.

Elma took a deep breath. The coffee burned her throat going down, but it chased away some of the cold that had settled in her chest. She nodded once, a short, sharp motion. She nodded again, like she was convincing herself. Then she walked through the revolving doors.

The lobby was cold, loud, full of people who looked like they belonged there. Suits that cost more than her old rent. Shoes that didn’t scuff. Phones glued to ears, conversations about numbers and deals and quarterly reports, words she only half understood but recognized as power. The air was conditioned to a temperature that said _we don’t sweat here_. The sound hit her all at once—heels on marble, voices bouncing off glass, the soft chime of elevators opening and closing like a heartbeat. It was overwhelming. It was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

She approached the HR desk, heart pounding so hard she was sure the receptionist could hear it. Her palms were damp. She wiped them on her skirt without thinking, leaving a faint damp mark on the fabric.

I’m here for the admin interview, she said. Her voice came out steadier than she felt. Nathan Hayes sent me.

The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly. Just a fraction, but Elma caught it. Recognition. Surprise. Then she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The kind of smile people used when they’d been told to be polite but didn’t mean it. Please take a seat. Someone will be with you.

Elma sat.

Ten minutes passed. Twenty. The clock on the wall moved with deliberate cruelty, each tick loud in the quiet space between conversations. People kept glancing at her clothes, her shoes, her bag. She felt it. The judgment. The silent question that hung in the air without anyone saying it out loud: _what is she doing here?_

She kept her eyes on the floor. Let them look. Let them wonder. Let them decide she didn’t belong. Destiny’s words were the only thing keeping her spine straight. _You deserve to be here._ She repeated it in her head like a prayer.

Finally, a woman in a sharp suit walked out. Tall, polished, every inch of her screaming authority. Her hair was pulled back tight, not a strand out of place. Her heels made no sound on the marble, but her presence did. Catherine Hayes.

Elma froze. The name hit her before the face did. She’d seen it on memos, on plaques, in the margins of company reports Joseph used to leave lying around. Catherine was the kind of Hayes that didn’t need an introduction. The kind that ended conversations with one look.

Catherine stopped in front of Elma and looked her up and down. Slow. Deliberate. Like she was inventorying damage. Like she was deciding how much of a problem Elma would be.

You’re late, Catherine said.

I’m not, Elma said quietly. It’s 9:07.

Catherine’s lips curved into a smile that wasn’t a smile. Interesting. Nathan didn’t mention you were bold too. Most people don’t correct me twice in one minute. Most people know better.

Elma stood up. Her legs felt unsteady, but she forced them to hold. She wouldn’t sit while being judged. I’m here for the job.

Catherine crossed her arms. The gesture was small but final, a wall going up. And I’m here to tell you that Joseph already called. He said you’re not to be hired under any circumstances. Said you were trouble. Said you had a habit of lying to get what you want. Said you couldn’t be trusted within a hundred feet of company property.

Elma’s stomach dropped. The floor seemed to tilt under her. Joseph’s voice echoed in her head, the same words he’d used to get her thrown out of the factory. The same words that had followed her for months.

I see, she said. The words were quiet, but steady. She made sure of that. So this is how it starts.

Catherine leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only Elma could hear. The smile stayed, but it was colder now. Let me make this easy for you. Leave now. Before I make sure you never work in this city again. Before your name is flagged in every HR system from here to the coast. You don’t belong here, Elma. You never did. You’re out of your depth.

Before Elma could answer, before she could find the words to fight back, the elevator doors opened with a soft chime that cut through the tension like a blade.

Nathan stepped out, still in his doctor’s coat. The white fabric was out of place in the sea of suits, but nobody told him to leave. His eyes swept the lobby and landed on them immediately, sharp and assessing. What’s going on here?

Catherine straightened instantly. Her posture shifted, professional mask sliding into place so fast it was almost impressive. Nothing, cousin. Just handling a hiring mistake. Trying to save you some trouble.

Nathan’s eyes went to Elma, then back to Catherine. His expression didn’t change, but something in the air did. The temperature dropped. This is Elma Okonkwo. I recommended her. And I expect her to be treated accordingly.

Catherine laughed. A short, sharp sound that cut through the quiet that had fallen over the lobby. People were watching now. Pretending not to, but watching. You recommended Joseph’s niece? The one who tried to seduce him? The one he had to have removed from the factory for conduct unbecoming? Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Nathan?

Elma flinched. The words were a slap, but she didn’t look away. She wouldn’t give Catherine that. She met her eyes and held them, even though her hands were shaking again. She let the accusation sit in the air. She wouldn’t deny it with panic. Not here.

Nathan’s expression hardened. The easy confidence from yesterday was gone, replaced by something colder, more deliberate. And I heard Joseph’s side. Now I want to hear hers. That’s how this works. Or did you forget?

Catherine stepped closer to him, lowering her voice, but Elma still caught it. The words were meant to be private, but the lobby was too quiet now. Don’t do this, Nathan. You don’t know what you’re getting into. Joseph wouldn’t lie about something like this. You’re going to regret it. You’re going to look foolish.

I know exactly what I’m doing, Nathan said. His voice left no room for argument. It was the voice he’d used in the street yesterday, the one that didn’t ask twice. HR, process her paperwork. She starts today.

The lobby went silent. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Heads turned. People pretended not to watch, but they were watching. Phones paused. Fingers stopped typing. For thirty seconds, the entire floor held its breath.

Catherine stared at Nathan, then at Elma. Her smile returned, cold and sharp enough to draw blood.

Fine, she said. The word was clipped, final. Welcome to Hayes Corp, Elma. Let’s see how long you last.

Elma walked past her toward HR, hands shaking but chin high. She didn’t run. She didn’t look back. She kept her eyes forward, even when she felt Catherine’s gaze boring into the back of her neck like a brand. Each step felt heavier than the last, but she kept walking. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Destiny, watching from outside the glass doors, whispered to herself so low only she could hear. Oh, it’s on now.