Monday arrived like a verdict.
Alexander was in the office by 5:45 a.m., earlier than usual, as if an extra hour could armor him against whatever Elena Reyes might bring. The creative floor was still dark when he passed it on his way to the executive elevator. He told himself he was just checking the new motion-sensor lights Priya had installed. He did not linger outside the glass doors of the design studio. He did not imagine Elena's scuffed boots crossing the threshold in two hours' time.
By 6:30, the building stirred. Baristas fired up the espresso machines in the lobby café. Interns darted between cubicles with color-coded badges. Alexander sat at his desk, reviewing the quarterly projections, but the numbers blurred. He kept seeing that copper key. Kept hearing her voice: You're scared of feeling.
At 6:58, his intercom buzzed.
"Mr. Voss? Ms. Reyes is here." Priya's tone was neutral, but he caught the amusement underneath. "She's… early."
"Send her up."
He stood, straightened his tie, and immediately hated himself for it. This was an employee orientation. Nothing more.
The elevator doors opened at 7:02. Elena stepped out carrying a canvas tote slung over one shoulder and a paper cup in each hand. She wore a forest-green blazer over a band T-shirt (The National, faded from too many washes) and jeans that had clearly been painted in at some point. A streak of cerulean ran along one thigh like a comet tail.
"Coffee," she announced, setting one cup on his desk. "Black, two sugars, splash of oat milk. Priya's a snitch."
Alexander stared at the cup. "How did you—"
"Observation. You grimace at regular milk but don't send it back. You tap the sugar twice. And you're lactose intolerant but too polite to admit it in meetings." She took a sip from her own cup—something that smelled like cardamom and burnt sugar. "Also, I bribed the barista."
He should have been annoyed. Instead, he picked up the coffee. It was perfect.
Elena dropped into the chair opposite him without waiting for an invitation. "So. Day one. Do I get a badge? A corner office? A blood oath to the VossTech gods?"
"You get a desk on the creative floor. Badge at security. And a 9 a.m. stand-up with the team." He slid a folder across the desk. "NDA. Benefits. Non-compete. Standard."
She flipped it open, scanned the first page, and snorted. "This says I can't work for a competitor for two years post-employment. Bold, considering you haven't seen me survive a single brainstorm."
"I've seen enough." He leaned back, folding his arms. "The garden prototype. It's… impressive. But we're not a nonprofit. We sell to governments. Banks. Militaries. Your flowers won't survive a boardroom."
Elena's eyes narrowed. "Everything beautiful starts as a risk, Alex."
The use of his first name hit like a slap. No one called him Alex. Not since Claire. Not since Liam was born.
He opened his mouth to correct her, but she was already standing, slinging her tote back over her shoulder. "9 a.m. stand-up. Got it. I'll try not to set anything on fire before then."
She was halfway to the door when he said, "The subway pole. How did you rig the projection to track movement?"
She paused, hand on the handle. "Trade secret. But if you're nice, I'll show you at lunch."
"I don't do lunch."
"You do today." She flashed that dimple again and was gone.
The creative floor at 9 a.m. was chaos in the best way.
Whiteboards bled with marker ink. A 3D printer whirred in the corner, spitting out a prototype drone shaped like a hummingbird. Someone had strung fairy lights across the ceiling beams, and a playlist of lo-fi beats pulsed from hidden speakers.
Elena stood at the center of it all, barefoot (she'd kicked off her boots under a desk), sleeves rolled up, hair now completely free of its bun and falling in wild waves. She was sketching on a tablet while arguing with a junior designer about pantone swatches.
Alexander watched from the doorway, unnoticed. She moved like she belonged here—like she'd always belonged here. The team gravitated toward her without realizing it. Even Marcus, the grizzled art director who'd once made an intern cry over kerning, was laughing at something she'd said.
Priya appeared at his elbow. "She's already redesigned the intern onboarding packet. In Comic Sans, ironically. HR is having a meltdown."
Alexander's lips twitched. "Let her."
The stand-up began. Elena went last. She didn't use slides. She just held up her tablet and projected a hologram (yes, a hologram) of the garden onto the conference table. Vines curled around coffee cups. A butterfly landed on Marcus's beard.
"This," she said, "is what we're building. Not ads. Experiences. The encryption campaign launches in six weeks. I want every user to feel like they're stepping into Narnia when they activate two-factor. Questions?"
A hand shot up. "Budget?"
"Whatever it takes," Alexander said before he could stop himself. Twenty heads swiveled toward him. He cleared his throat. "Within reason. Elena, my office after this."
She arrived at 10:17 with a takeout container of falafel and a grin. "You said you don't do lunch. I brought lunch to you."
He stared at the food. "I have a call with Tokyo at 10:30."
"Perfect. Multitask." She perched on the edge of his desk, opened the container, and stole a fry. "Subway pole rigging. You ready?"
Against his better judgment, he nodded.
Elena pulled a small black box from her tote—no bigger than a deck of cards. She set it on his desk and pressed a button. A beam of light shot out, projecting a miniature version of the garden onto his blotter. She moved her hand through the air, and the flowers followed, petals opening and closing in real time.
"It's lidar-based," she explained. "Maps the surface in milliseconds, then renders the texture procedurally. The butterfly's AI-trained on real monarch migration patterns. I scraped the data from a biologist in Costa Rica who owed me a favor."
Alexander reached out, half-expecting his fingers to pass through light. But the petals bent under his touch, cool and slightly damp, like real leaves. The illusion was flawless.
"How much?" he asked.
"To produce at scale? With current tech, maybe $2 per unit. But if we partner with that startup in Seoul—"
"Done." He didn't even look at the cost breakdown she was pulling up. "You'll lead the team. Full creative control. Report directly to me."
Elena went very still. "You're serious."
"I don't waste time."
She studied him for a long moment. "This isn't just about the tech, is it?"
He looked away, out at the city. "VossTech hasn't innovated in three years. We've iterated. Optimized. But we haven't surprised anyone. Not even ourselves."
"And you think I can?"
"I think you already have."
The silence stretched, thick with something neither of them named.
Then Elena's phone buzzed. She glanced at it and frowned. "Shoot. I promised Liam I'd help him with his art project after school. He's doing a diorama of the solar system and Jupiter's giving him grief."
Alexander's head snapped up. "You've met my son?"
"Priya mentioned pickup mix-up last week. I was in the lobby when Maria got stuck in traffic. Liam needed a ride to the dentist. I figured… why not?" She shrugged, but her eyes were wary. "He's a cool kid. Asked if I could make Saturn's rings glow in the dark."
Alexander's mind reeled. Liam hadn't mentioned her. Not once. But then, Liam hoarded secrets like treasure—especially the good ones.
"You should've asked me," he said.
"I did. Texted you. You were in a meeting." She pulled up the message thread and turned the phone toward him.
Hey boss, Liam's stranded. Cool if I play Uber? —E
Sent 3:42 p.m. last Thursday. He'd been on a call with the CFO. He'd seen the notification, assumed it was Priya, and silenced it.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't—"
"It's fine." She was already packing up the projector. "Boundaries. Got it. Won't happen again."
"Elena—"
But she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that made his chest ache.
That afternoon, Alexander canceled his 3 p.m. and drove to Liam's school. He found his son on the soccer field, practicing free kicks with a focus that bordered on obsession. The ball sailed into the net with a satisfying thwack.
"Daddy!" Liam dropped everything and ran to him, crashing into his legs. "You came!"
"Couldn't miss it." Alexander knelt, brushing grass from Liam's knees. "Heard you had help with your diorama."
Liam's eyes lit up. "Elena's awesome. She said Jupiter's made of gas, so we used cotton balls and food coloring and this glowy paint she had in her bag. It looks like a real storm! Wanna see?"
Alexander's throat tightened. "Yeah. I do."
They walked to the art room hand in hand. The diorama was a masterpiece—planets suspended on invisible wire, Saturn's rings pulsing with fiber-optic light. Elena had even added a tiny VossTech logo on the base, no bigger than a dime, etched in gold.
Liam beamed. "She said it's for 'the best dad in the galaxy.'"
Alexander stared at the logo until his vision blurred. When he looked up, Elena was in the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with an unreadable expression.
"I overstepped," she said quietly. "I know."
"No," he said. "You didn't."
Liam tugged his sleeve. "Can Elena come for pizza tonight? She said she makes the best dinosaur-shaped crusts."
Alexander met Elena's eyes. For the first time, he didn't look away.
"Yes," he said. "She can."
To be continued in Chapter 4…