Cassidy #3
The moment Henry stands, the atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. Chairs scrape back, papers shuffle, and all of the alphas relax just enough to become dangerous in a completely different way.
“Thank you all for your time,” Henry says smoothly, buttoning his jacket. “I think we’re in very capable hands.”
“Depends on whose hands,” Ava teases, winking at Finn, who rolls his eyes.
“I think we’ve made excellent progress today,” Henry continues, ignoring her. “And I look forward to seeing the next iteration.”
I stay seated as the room erupts into the polite chaos of a meeting ending, too aware of every alpha rising around me at once.
Everyone’s voices blend together as they gather their things, exchange pleasantries, and make plans for lunch.
I don’t move. I can’t.
Ava smiles warmly at me. “You did well, little omega.”
A burning sensation tingles in my cheeks as heat floods them.
I duck my head immediately. “Thank you.”
Hudson lingers another second, studying me with an unreadable expression before inclining his head politely. “Thank you for your honesty, Cassidy.”
Then, they’re gone.
The door closes behind them, taking the worst of the unfamiliar scents with it, and I’m left alone with the Opus team. I keep my eyes down, focusing on organising my notes, hoping that everyone else will leave before Harlan decides to unload.
“Cassidy,” Harlan says, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. I freeze.
“Do you need us here for this, Harlan? I’ve got another meeting in fifteen,” Penny says.
“No, you can go,” he says, not breaking eye contact with me.
I remain frozen in place, my heart hammering against my ribs as Orion and Finn gather their things and leave the room. Silas lingers for a moment, his dark eyes moving between Harlan and me, as if he can feel the pressure gathering.
“Don’t,” Harlan says quickly, and Silas nods.
He gives me a warning look before he’s gone, too. Harlan doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with a heavy, assessing gaze. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. I clutch my notebook to my chest like a shield, but I know it won’t protect me from whatever’s coming.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the empty conference room. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You should’ve used a laptop.” Harlan doesn’t look at me as he buttons up his suit jacket, and the absence of his attention makes me flinch harder than his stare did.
Is this where he fires me? Has he given up on me entirely now? Would that even be a bad thing at this point? Being let go before I can damage Sterling’s reputation further…
“I’m sorry?”
“A laptop,” he repeats flatly. “Like every other competent assistant in this building.”
My stomach twists painfully, and my hand goes clammy on the cold surface of the table, the scent trapped beneath my skin turning sharp with shame.
“I—I’m sorry. I thought handwritten notes would be less disruptive during discussion,” I whisper. “I’ll use one next time.”
Harlan stands at the head of the table, adjusting his cuffs. The lack of attention hurts, and I don’t understand why. Surely, I should want less of it, right?
“Well, now you’ve doubled your workload for no reason,” he says coolly. “You’ll type all of that up properly, format it into usable meeting minutes, and have it emailed to everybody in attendance before lunch.”
My chest tightens.
Before lunch?
Does this mean I’m not being fired?
“That includes the campaign notes, discussion changes, model concerns, and product positioning amendments,” he continues, finally looking at me. “Try not to miss anything important.”
Humiliation crawls hotly up my throat, but I nod quickly, swallowing down the whine trying to catch there.
If I stay quiet, this will be easier. I wait for his next demand, but nothing comes.
“I’ll get started on it straight away,” I offer.
“Then take your break,” he says, already gathering his own things. “And report to my office immediately afterwards.”
I grip my notebook tighter. “Yes, absolutely, I can do that, sir.”
Harlan watches me for another second, his jaw tight enough to pulse, before turning away completely. The door shuts behind him a moment later.
And just like that, the room feels enormous, stripped of everyone else’s scents and somehow colder for it.
Too big.
Too expensive.
Too important for somebody like me.
I stare down at my chaotic notes, my vision burning unpleasantly, as the words on the page swim and double, my throat aching around every sound I refuse to make.
I run my finger under the lines to try and keep track of them, but my hand’s shaking so bad I can’t even hold the pen straight.
I wish I could take five minutes to cry, just to let the pressure out, but there’s no time.
This room will probably be needed by someone else soon, and I’ve got no right to take up space here.
I just need to hold it together until I get to my office.
It should be easy to hold back the tears, keep my head high, and pretend I haven’t just failed all over again.
Because once I start crying, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop—and Harlan is still waiting for me.