“Oh, God…”
This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t screw up. I didn’t slack off and I never made demands. That went against my nature as an anxious people pleaser. By the simple tone of his shout and the anger and indignation that colored in the syllables of my name, he wasnotpleased.
I frantically scrolled, trying to see as quickly as I could why this file was off, why that account said it had insufficient funds when that couldn’t be true.
“Elena! Get in my office!”
I panted, struggling not to whimper with worry.
“Right now!”
More shouts followed, like he was on the phone. It wasn’t anything I could make out, but it didn’t matter. I worked forhim, not the other way around. His business was his own, not mine.
I stood, still moving my mouse and trying to spot something on the screen that would scream at me. Some kind of glaring error I could have anahareaction to. I was only human, after all. People made mistakes. Even perfectionist people-pleasers like me.
“Elena! Get in my office rightnow!”
Unsure of what calamity had him so stressed, I logged out and backed up. My heart hammered so fast. My lungs strained to fill with air.
If he was yelling forme, it had to do with this account that was screwed up. One that only I had access to.
“Coming,” I whispered.
He wouldn’t hear me. Not with my door closed and not with that low decibel.
As I opened my door to hustle to his summons, I kept my gaze down and avoided eye contact with the rest of the office workers. The burn of their stares seared me, but I just couldn’t face anyone. Not like this, ashamed and scolded. Being the center of attention was one of my worst fears—aside from the doomsday ones like if anyone ever caught on to how I was an accomplice to hiding money trails.
My preference was to havenoattention on me, and I loathed how lying low was impossible at this moment.
At my father’s door, I paused and sucked in a shaky breath to fortify myself.
I would be put in the center of attention once I entered.
He’d have something harsh to tell me, likely connected to the mistakes I’d noticed again. Before, I’d moved things around and covered up the errors the best I could, and he’d never called me out for it.
Something in the air warned me I wouldn’t be able to skirt around trouble this time. Trouble I had no part in earning by anything I’d done.
I gripped the doorknob, ignoring how shaky my fingers were.
Myfate is being John Morovov’s daughter.
I’d never escape it.
I’d never be able to redefine how he’d conformed me into being his accountant here, sworn into the specific demand of what I did.
With a stupid sense of irony and unwelcome dry humor, I stifled a laugh. My face was too rigid with fear to smirk, but in other circumstances, I would have.
So… this isnotjust another Monday.
This isn’t just another workweek.
I opened the door and couldn’t dispel this sinking sense of unease that nothing was ever going to be right or normal again.
3
ADRIK
The first test came quickly.
