Cursed to be mine

I rubbed my temples and stared at the glowing spreadsheets on my laptop screen. The numbers swam in front of my eyes, columns blurring together like waves. The office around me was nearly silent now-just the low hum of computers and the shuffle of the night security guard making his rounds. Most interns had left hours ago, but I was still here, clinging to perfection like it was oxygen. My boss hadn't demanded I stay late. No one was watching me except the shadows stretching long across the glass walls. But mediocrity wasn't an option.

Not here, not at Harrington Enterprises, where excellence was the air everyone breathed-or suffocated without.

My phone buzzed against the desk, vibrating insistently until I reached for it. Maya.

"Don't tell me you're still at that office," she said, laughter spilling through the line. "Elena, it's Friday night."

"I'll leave soon," I promised, leaning back in my chair and pressing the bridge of my nose. "I just want this model finished before Monday."

"You're not a machine," she teased. "Normal people go out, eat ice cream, maybe even kiss someone. You? You date Excel."

"Not everyone has the luxury of being seventeen with no rent to pay." Despite my exhaustion, a smile tugged at my mouth. "Besides, if I do well here, maybe everything changes for us."

Her laughter softened. "I know. You're working so hard, and I love you for it. But don't forget to breathe, okay? You deserve more than stress and takeout dinners."

The words lodged in my chest. I hated when Maya went sentimental; it reminded me of our parents' absence, of how I was more than a sister-I was guardian, provider, protector. Every late night was for both of us.

"I'll be fine," I said quietly.

"You better be. Because if you collapse, I'm too delicate to drag you to the hospital."

I chuckled and hung up, the heaviness in my chest easing just a fraction. Maya always had that effect. I shut my laptop, stuffed it into my bag, and left the office. Maybe fresh air would rinse away the fatigue.

The city streets were quieter than usual. A chill nipped at me as I crossed toward the subway, my heels clicking on the pavement. You deserve more. Maya's words replayed in my head, and for one dangerous second, I let myself believe them.

That thought stuck with me-distracting enough that I didn't notice the sleek black car until the horn blared. The screech of tires cut through the night like a whip. My stomach dropped as brilliant headlights seared my vision. I stumbled back, my laptop bag tumbling to the pavement with a sharp thud.

The world seemed to slow: cold wind whipping past my face, the smell of burning rubber, the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears.

The tinted window rolled down, and a smooth, irritated voice cut through the night.

"Do you have a death wish?"

My eyes met piercing blue ones, and for a split second, I could only gape.

My stomach plummeted.

Adrian Harrington. The CEO. Billionaire. My boss's boss's boss. The man whose signature could shift markets and whose headlines filled gossip columns.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered, my face flushing hot. "I wasn't paying attention."

His blue eyes flicked over me, assessing, cold. "Clearly."

Exhaustion and humiliation burned together, sparking something reckless. "Well, I survived, didn't I?" I muttered before I could stop myself.