POV — Catriona
5:42 a.m.
The city is still half asleep when I step out of the elevator onto the executive floor.
The lights are already on.
Of course they are.
Shawn Reid doesn't operate on normal hours. He operates on advantage.
His office door is open.
He's at the conference table, jacket off, sleeves rolled, a spread of acquisition files laid out like surgical instruments.
He doesn't look up when I enter.
"You're late," he says.
I check my watch.
5:43.
"I was told six."
"You were tested."
My jaw tightens.
He finally looks at me.
Measured. Neutral.
"You adjusted."
Not a compliment.
An observation.
"Sit."
I do.
He slides a file across the table.
"Hostile acquisition. Energy sector. Cross-border compliance issues. We present to the board at nine."
Nine.
Three hours.
"You're presenting the legal risk summary."
The words land like impact.
"I'm an intern."
"You're a law student," he corrects.
That again.
He leans back slightly.
"Convince twelve board members that this deal won't collapse under regulatory scrutiny."
No warm-up.
No rehearsal.
Just execution.
"You said no margin for error," I say.
"There isn't."
The challenge hums between us.
I open the file.
Thirty-two pages of projections. Regulatory charts. Risk matrices.
My pulse accelerates — not with fear.
With focus.
For two hours, we dissect strategy.
He interrupts.
I counter.
He challenges assumptions.
I refine them.
At 8:57, we step into the boardroom.
Twelve executives.
Polished. Powerful. Predatory.
Charles Laurent sits third from the head of the table.
His gaze finds mine immediately.
Sharp. Assessing.
Interesting.
Shawn doesn't introduce me.
He simply says:
"Legal summary."
No safety net.
No softening.
I stand.
If my hands shake, I don't feel it.
"Clause fourteen exposes us to minority shareholder litigation if disclosure timing isn't structured through staggered compliance," I begin. "However, if we restructure the liability shield through offshore regulatory alignment—"
A board member interrupts.
"Who prepared this analysis?"
I don't hesitate.
"I did."
A murmur ripples through the table.
Charles watches carefully.
One of the older directors leans forward.
"You're the intern."
"Yes."
"And we're trusting a first-year law student with cross-border exposure?"
Before I can answer—
Shawn speaks.
Calm. Even.
"We're trusting the most precise legal assessment in this room."
Silence.
That wasn't indulgence.
That was endorsement.
I continue.
By the time I sit down, the room is no longer murmuring.
It's calculating.
The vote passes.
Nine in favor.
Three abstentions.
Deal approved.
As the room clears, Charles approaches me first.
"Impressive," he says quietly.
"You sound surprised."
"I'm recalibrating."
His gaze flickers briefly toward Shawn across the room.
"Be careful," he adds softly. "Public endorsement creates private enemies."
Then he walks away.
A warning.
Or positioning.
Shawn joins me seconds later.
"You performed," he says.
"Was that the expectation?"
"It was the requirement."
A pause.
"You didn't defend me because you liked my analysis," I say.
His eyes narrow slightly.
"No."
"Then why?"
He steps closer — not enough to touch, but enough to feel.
"Because I don't present assets I can't control."
There it is.
The shift.
Asset.
Not protégé.
Not equal.
Asset.
I hold his gaze.
"I'm not something you control."
The air tightens.
"No," he agrees evenly.
"Not yet."
That lands differently this time.
Less promise.
More challenge.
He steps back first.
"Six a.m. tomorrow."
And just like that, we move forward.
Faster.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
Because now the board has seen me.
Charles has assessed me.
And Shawn has publicly claimed my competence.