“Ms. Green,” Mr. Mávros’ voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the quiet hum of the office. I looked up from my computer, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, already anticipating the impossible demand.

He didn’t even wait for my response. “I need the Milan files at seven a.m. tomorrow.”

My boss, Devin Carlo Mávros, also known as 'the Devil,' had been my tormentor and my employer for three grueling years. As his personal assistant, I knew better than to argue, but tonight, my resolve was different. I had a date.

“Those papers are due next Friday, Sir.” I stood, trying to project a confidence I didn’t feel, and gestured vaguely towards my desk. “The marketing department hasn’t given me their reports.” I knew it was Friday, I knew the meeting for the proposed Milan hotel had only happened on Monday. A feasibility study of this magnitude required weeks, not hours.

Mr. Mávros’ face, already perpetually sour, darkened further. His muscles flexed as he crossed his arms, his jaw clenching. “Well then, do your job and tell them to do the work I pay them to do.” He snapped, his voice a cold, unbreakable law. “I need those papers in the morning, or else you’re fired.” He turned his back on me, signaling the end of the discussion. My coworkers offered sympathetic glances, but I just sighed, focusing on the daunting task ahead.