Chapter 6 Learning to Swim
Elena's POV
Monday morning, I arrived at Thorne Empire at seven-thirty.
The security guard nodded at me. "Miss Moreno. First day?"
"Yes."
"Good luck."
I'd need it.
The elevator ride to the fifty-third floor felt like ascending to another world.
My reflection stared back at me in the polished doors—new shoes, pressed blouse, hair pulled back so tight it made my scalp ache. I looked professional. Put together.
I looked like a fraud.
The doors opened. Jenna was already at her desk, typing rapidly, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. She glanced up, held up one finger—wait—and continued her conversation.
"No, Mr. Chen, Ms. Thorne specifically said the merger documents need the revised terms, not the original... Yes, I understand it's inconvenient... I'll have her call you back."
She hung up, exhaled, and smiled at me. "Welcome to chaos. Coffee?"
"I'm okay."
"You won't be." She stood, gesturing for me to follow. "Come on, I'll show you your desk before Victoria gets here."
"She's not here yet?"
"She had an early breakfast meeting downtown. She'll be back by eight, which gives us exactly—" she checked her watch, "—twenty-three minutes. Let's make them count."
My desk was smaller than Jenna's, positioned so I could see Victoria's office door and the elevator simultaneously.
The computer was new, the phone system looked like it belonged on a spaceship, and there were three different calendars pinned to the wall.
"This is your station," Jenna said. "Computer login is on the sticky note—change the password today. This—" she tapped the phone, "—is your lifeline and your enemy. You'll learn to hate it and depend on it equally."
I stared at the buttons. There had to be at least thirty of them.
"Lines one and two are direct to Victoria. Three through six are general. Seven is for emergencies only—and I mean actual emergencies, not 'the printer's jammed' emergencies. Got it?"
I nodded, trying to memorize everything.
"Victoria's calendar." Jenna pointed to the main screen. "Color-coded. Red is non-negotiable meetings. Blue is flexible. Green is personal, which means you never, ever ask questions about it. Yellow is tentative."
"What about—"
"If it's not color-coded, it doesn't go on the calendar. Period." She pulled up another screen. "This is the contact database. Clients, partners, board members, family. Never lose this. Never share this. Never call anyone on this list without Victoria's explicit permission."
My head was already spinning.
"Coffee orders." Jenna opened a document. "Victoria takes hers black, no sugar, in the blue ceramic mug only. Not the glass ones, not the paper cups, only the blue mug. She has three in her office. Don't ask why."
"Okay."
"She doesn't eat breakfast at her desk. Ever. Lunch is usually working lunches, catered. Dinner—if she's here that late—is takeout from one of five restaurants. I'll send you the list."
"This is a lot."
"This is nothing." Jenna's expression turned serious. "Elena, I'm going to be real with you. Victoria is the best boss I've ever had, but she's not easy. She expects perfection because she gives perfection. She doesn't yell, she doesn't throw things, but she will look at you like you've personally disappointed her, and somehow that's worse."
My stomach twisted.
"First day, you're allowed to ask questions. After that, you're expected to know. She doesn't believe in hand-holding. You either keep up or—"
The elevator dinged.
Jenna straightened immediately. "She's here. Sit at your desk. Look busy. Do not speak unless spoken to."
I scrambled to my chair, pulled up my email—empty—and tried to look like I knew what I was doing.
Victoria stepped out of the elevator, phone to her ear, Bluetooth earpiece flashing. She wore a navy suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, her heels clicking against the marble floor with purpose.
"I don't care what Richard said, the terms are non-negotiable... Then he can walk away from the deal... Yes, I'm serious."
She walked past us without acknowledgment, into her office, door shutting firmly behind her.
Jenna exhaled. "That's a bad mood. Breakfast meeting probably went south."
"What do I do?"
"Nothing. Stay quiet. If she needs something, she'll call."
The red light on my phone lit up. Line one.
"That's you," Jenna whispered.
I picked up the phone, hands shaking. "Yes?"
"Coffee. Now." Victoria's voice was clipped, cold.
"Yes, ma'am."
The line went dead.
I looked at Jenna. "Blue mug?"
"Blue mug. Kitchen's that way. Move fast."
I practically ran to the small kitchen area, found the coffee maker—thankfully already brewed—and searched for the blue mug. There were white mugs, glass mugs, mugs with company logos.
No blue mug.
Panic fluttered in my chest.
"Looking for this?"
I turned. A woman stood in the doorway—mid-forties, stylish glasses, holding a blue ceramic mug.
"I—yes, Victoria—"
"Needs her coffee." She handed me the mug, amused. "New assistant?"
"First day."
"Figures. I'm Margaret, executive assistant to Mr. Thorne—Victoria's father. Word of advice: when Victoria's in a mood, fast is better than perfect. Get her the coffee, apologize for nothing, and stay out of her way."
"Thank you."
I poured the coffee—black, no sugar—and carried it carefully back to Victoria's office. I knocked.
"Come in."
I entered. Victoria sat at her desk, laptop open, papers spread everywhere, expression stormy.
"Your coffee."
"Put it there." She gestured without looking up.
I set it on the corner of her desk, turned to leave.
"Elena."
I froze. "Yes?"
"Close the door on your way out."
"Of course."
I left, closed the door quietly, and exhaled.
Jenna gave me a sympathetic look. "You survived. That's a win."
\---
The rest of the morning was a blur of phone calls, scheduling conflicts, and trying not to mess up.
At eleven, Victoria called me in again.
"I need the Bergman file."
"The—?"
"Bergman. Client file. Should be in the cabinet, third drawer, filed under B."
I went to the cabinet. Opened the third drawer. Files were organized alphabetically, but Bergman wasn't under B.
I checked again. Nothing.
My heart raced. "I don't see it."
"Look harder."
I pulled out every file starting with B. Bergson. Bright Industries. Blackwood Enterprises.
No Bergman.
"It's not here."
Victoria looked up, that expression Jenna had warned me about crossing her face. Not anger. Disappointment.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
She stood, walked over, and found the file in thirty seconds. Under "D."
"Bergman Diamond Corporation," she said flatly. "Filed under Diamond, not Bergman. Corporate name, not client name."
"I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"Now you know." She handed me the file. "Make copies of pages three through seven. Bring them back."
"Yes, ma'am."
I hurried to the copy room, made the copies, brought them back. She took them without comment.
I returned to my desk, cheeks burning.
"Don't feel bad," Jenna murmured. "Everyone makes that mistake first week."
"She thinks I'm incompetent."
"She thinks you're learning. There's a difference." Jenna glanced at Victoria's closed door. "She's hard because the work is hard. But if you can handle her, you can handle anyone."
I wasn't sure I could handle her.
By lunch, I'd messed up three times—connected a call to the wrong line, scheduled a meeting in a room that was already booked, and brought her the wrong file twice.
Victoria didn't yell. She just corrected me, her voice perfectly neutral, her eyes disappointed.
Somehow, that was worse.
At one o'clock, she left for an offsite meeting. I slumped in my chair.
"First day's always the worst," Jenna said. "Tomorrow will be better."
"How do you know?"
"Because you'll know where the Bergman file is."
Despite everything, I smiled.
My phone buzzed. A text from Mrs. Chen: Leo asking for you. Tell him you'll be home soon?
I glanced at the clock. Five more hours.
Tell him Mama loves him and I'll be home for dinner.
Three dots appeared, then: He says he loves you more.
My chest ached. I missed him. I'd been gone for six hours and I missed him so much it hurt.
But this job—this job was for him. For us.
I could do this.
I had to.
At six-thirty, Victoria returned.
"Still here?" she asked, actually sounding surprised.
"You didn't say I could leave."
"Jenna usually leaves at six."
"I'm not Jenna."
Something flickered in her expression. "No. You're not." She studied me. "How was your first day?"
Honest or diplomatic?
"Hard," I said. "But I'll do better tomorrow."
"Yes, you will." She walked toward her office, paused. "Elena."
"Yes?"
"Everyone makes mistakes on their first day. It's what you do with them that matters."
Then she disappeared into her office, leaving me staring after her.
I packed up my things, took the elevator down, and stepped out into the cool evening air.
I'd survived.
Barely.
But I'd survived.
I took the bus to Mrs. Chen's, and the moment I walked in, Leo tackled my legs.
"Mama!"
I picked him up, held him close, breathed in his familiar smell. "Hi, baby. I missed you."
"Missed you more." He patted my cheeks. "You tired?"
"A little."
"I make you better." He kissed my forehead the way I always kissed his.
And just like that, everything was worth it.
Mrs. Chen smiled from the kitchen. "Long day?"
"The longest."
"But you made it."
"I made it."
We went home—our small, drafty house that was finally starting to feel warm. I made Leo dinner, gave him a bath, read him three stories instead of one because I'd missed bedtime routine.
When he finally fell asleep, I collapsed on the couch and let myself feel everything—the exhaustion, the fear, the tiny spark of pride that I'd survived day one.
Tomorrow would be better.
It had to be.