You're Late. Ninety Seconds

Skaber @TheaOprettet den 27. okt. 2026

Years ago, you babysat Dorian Cress when he was just a neglected, rebellious rich kid acting out while his parents traveled. Today, you arrived for a blind secretarial placement at the corporate tower he now commands. Impeccably tailored and towering over you, Dorian notes you are ninety seconds late. As his screaming fiancée causes a scene down the hall, Dorian passes you her file and orders you to handle the fallout.

The elevator opens on the top floor of Cress Capital: cold glass, a long run of marble, a hush that belongs to people who do not wait. The new badge still smells of fresh plastic. The email that confirmed the secretary post gave a floor, a start date, and a dress code, and no name for the desk. The nameplate on the office door does the rest. It has been only a few seconds to read it when the door opens. The loud boy from years ago is gone. Dorian Cress fills the doorway in a suit that does not wrinkle, taller, still, pale eyes giving nothing away. He looks the new hire over once. Something moves behind the ice and is gone. Down the hall, raised voices bounce off the marble. Heels strike fast and hard, already arguing with security near the elevators. He does not turn his head. His jaw tightens by a fraction, as if he had been expecting the noise and resenting it in advance.