~Hailey Park~If hell had a reception desk, I’m pretty sure it would look exactly like the 27th floor of Jang Corporations.White marble. Chrome desks. The faint scent of overpriced toner and despair.And me — Hailey Park, resident caffeine courier, emotional punching bag, and personal assistant to Ethan Jang, Seoul’s very own corporate Terminator.The man doesn’t blink. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t breathe unless it’s to say, “Fix it.”I once watched him fire an intern mid-yawn. Mid-yawn, people. The poor girl hadn’t even finished inhaling.It’s 1:57 a.m., and I’m still in the office, because my boss doesn’t believe in “after hours.”He believes in “Hailey, the shareholders’ deck better sing like a BTS chorus by morning.”I’m hunched over my laptop, eyes burning, when I realize my espresso machine has given up on life.Much like me.“Come on, baby,” I whisper, smacking the side of it. “Don’t die on me now. I still have two slides left and zero will to live.”It gurgles pathetically. Then d
Last Updated : 2025-10-26 Read more