I stepped into her private office, the door clicking shut behind me with a finality that made my stomach twist. The clock on the wall read just past eight, the building empty except for the hum of the air conditioning and the distant city lights filtering through the blinds. Ms. Elena Voss, my boss, sat behind her massive oak desk, her posture straight as a blade. She was impeccably dressed as always—crisp white blouse tucked into a tailored black pencil skirt that hugged her hips, sheer stockings leading down to polished black heels that clicked authoritatively against the floor when she moved. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe bun, and her green eyes fixed on me with an intensity that pinned me in place.
"Charles, close the door and stand there," she said, her voice low and command
