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Chapter 2:The first day at Malik group
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2026-10-19 02:27:27The next morning, the sky was still dark when Aatika’s alarm went off at 5:30 AM. Her body burned with exhaustion after a sleepless night of worrying about her mother’s medical expenses, but excitement and nervous anxiety jolted her awake. Today was her first day at Malik Group of Industries, and Mr. Rayyan Malik had made it crystal clear: Not even a single minute late.
She quietly got out of bed, careful not to wake her sick mother, Fatima, who was sleeping peacefully under a thin blanket. After offering her morning prayers, Aatika made a small pot of tea, placed a cup near her mother's bedside table with a handwritten note, and pressed her dark blue lawn suit carefully with a heavy old iron. By 6:30 AM, she was already standing at the bus stop, waiting for the local bus. The cool morning air chilled her skin, but her focus was unwavering. When the bus finally arrived, she squeezed inside the crowded vehicle, holding her bag close to her chest. She reached the massive corporate glass tower of Malik Group at precisely 6:48 AM—twelve minutes before her deadline. Aatika let out a long breath of relief as she walked into the marble lobby. It was quiet, empty except for the security staff and a few janitors polishing the floor. She took the elevator up to the 14th floor, her heart thumping against her ribs. When she stepped out, the floor was silent. But as she approached the executive hallway, she saw a light shining from the corner office—Rayyan Malik’s office. He's already here? she thought in disbelief. It was barely 6:55 AM. Suddenly, the heavy oak door opened, and a middle-aged man wearing glasses rushed out holding a stack of files. It was Tariq, Rayyan’s senior personal assistant. Tariq looked frantic, sweating despite the air conditioning. "Are you the new junior executive, Aatika Shah?" Tariq asked hastily, catching his breath. "Yes, sir. Good morning," Aatika replied politely. "Good morning. Listen to me very carefully," Tariq said, dropping a thick leather-bound binder into her hands. "Mr. Malik has been here since 5:00 AM. He is in an extremely foul mood today. The board meeting for the new Dubai hotel project is at 9:00 AM, and these financial reports need to be double-checked, cross-referenced, and formatted by 8:30 AM." Aatika looked down at the massive binder. It contained hundreds of pages of complex numbers, market analysis, and budget figures. "Can you do it?" Tariq asked, looking at her with desperation. "The last three assistants quit because they couldn't handle his pressure." Aatika swallowed her fear, stood tall, and nodded. "Consider it done, Mr. Tariq." Tariq let out a sigh of relief. "Your desk is right outside his office glass door. If he calls, you answer within two rings. Good luck." Aatika settled at her desk, turned on the desktop computer, and opened the financial spreadsheets. For the next hour and a half, her fingers flew across the keyboard. She recalculated margins, caught two subtle accounting errors in the foreign currency conversions, and reformatted the entire presentation into clean, readable graphs. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn't realize someone was standing right beside her desk. A cold, heavy shadow fell over her keyboard. Aatika froze and slowly looked up. Rayyan Malik was leaning against her desk, holding a steaming mug of black coffee. He was dressed in a pristine navy blue suit, his dark hair neatly styled, and his hazel eyes locked onto her screen with intense sharp focus. "Is this the Dubai report?" Rayyan’s deep, grave voice shattered the silence. "Yes, Mr. Malik," Aatika stood up instantly, stepping back slightly. "I have cross-checked all the entries. I also found two discrepancies in the international currency exchange rates on pages 14 and 22. I corrected them and updated the net profit projection." Rayyan’s eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. He reached out, grabbed the tablet connected to her desk, and swiped through the revised document. Silence filled the space between them for what felt like an eternity. Aatika held her breath, waiting for a harsh critique or a cold reprimand. Instead, Rayyan closed the file and looked directly into her eyes. "You caught the currency mismatch?" "Yes, sir. It was based on last week's rates instead of yesterday's official bank closing rates." Rayyan stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a brief second, something passed through his eyes—a mixture of surprise and cold calculation. "Print three copies and bring them to the 20th-floor board room in ten minutes," he ordered calmly, turning on his heel and walking back into his office without saying another word. Aatika sank back into her chair, her heart pounding. She had passed his first test. Meanwhile, inside his luxurious private office, Rayyan locked the door behind him and walked over to his massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the sprawling cityscape. He pulled a sleek silver smartphone from his pocket and dialed a private number. "Speak," Rayyan commanded as soon as the call connected. "Mr. Malik," his family attorney's voice came through the speaker. "I just received another letter from your grandfather's legal team. The trust board has set a strict deadline. If you do not register your marriage before the end of this month, 40% of Malik Group's voting shares will automatically transfer to your uncle, Hamdan Malik." Rayyan’s jaw clenched hard, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his phone. "Uncle Hamdan is trying to sabotage the company. I will not let him take a single share." "Then you know the condition, Rayyan," the lawyer said gravely. "Your grandfather's will clearly states that to inherit the full chairmanship, you must be legally married and settled. You have exactly twenty days left. Do you have a bride in mind? Socialite Natasha has been trying to contact your office..." "Natasha is an informant for my uncle," Rayyan snapped coldly. "I need someone completely outside our social circle. Someone with no connections to the media, no corporate greed, and someone I can control with a legal contract." Rayyan turned around and looked through the glass partition of his office. Outside, Aatika was frantically printing documents, carefully sorting the pages, her face glowing with pure dedication and honesty. A dark, dangerous idea took root in Rayyan’s mind. "I think I just found her," Rayyan said softly into the phone, his cold hazel eyes fixed squarely on Aatika.
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