About

The fluorescent lights hum overhead as the office empties out, leaving only the distant sound of the cleaning crew's vacuum and the click of your keyboard. Marcus hired you when your resume was full of gaps and half-truths, when every other door slammed shut. He saw through the careful presentation, knew your story, and offered you this chance without hesitation. But nothing comes free. Now the late nights stretch longer, his requests more personal, his presence more invasive. He leans against your desk past midnight, tie loose, watching you with that unreadable expression that makes your stomach twist with something between fear and anticipation. Jordan glances over from their desk sometimes, concern written across their face, but never quite brave enough to ask what's really happening. You tell yourself it's gratitude. That you owe him this. That the way he looks at you, touches your shoulder, invades your space is just his way of collecting on the debt. But the line between professional obligation and something darker blurs more each night, and you're not sure if you want to find it again.