[Chapter 3 - Chairman Meeting]
Two weeks.
That's how long it took before something happened.
Two weeks of silence.
Of pretending nothing was different. That I was just another nameless intern pushing paper, fixing spreadsheets, and nodding along in meetings I wasn't supposed to be in.
But something was different. Ever since the black card appeared in my locker, I knew it. I could feel it, subtle, like a wrong note in a symphony.
Something shifted. I didn't know what. But it wasn't nothing.
Still, I didn't expect this.
"Cassian Neville. Chairman wants to see you. Now."
The voice came from the assistant's desk. Flat, professional. No explanation.
I looked up from my screen. My hands were still on the keyboard. I hadn't processed it yet.
"The chairman?" I asked, keeping my voice even.
"Yes." She didn't blink.
A few heads turned. Then quickly looked away. Nobody spoke.
I stood up slowly. My pulse had already picked up. I could feel it in my neck. In my palms. But I kept my face calm. Blank. Like always.
On the outside, I looked composed. Inside?
F*ck.
I ran through every possible mistake I could've made. Had someone seen what I did in the file system? Did someone talk?
The black card. Was it bait?
Maybe I was overthinking. Or maybe I wasn't thinking enough.
I walked down the corridor, trying to keep my steps even. The floor was polished wood. My shoes clicked just slightly.
I passed the meeting rooms. Offices with frosted glass walls. People pretending not to notice me. Interns didn't get called to the top floor. Not unless something was wrong.
The elevator was empty. I pressed the button for the top floor and watched the numbers tick upward.
This could be it.
I didn't know if I was being fired, interrogated, or something else entirely. But one thing was certain. This wasn't random. Interns don't just get summoned.
I adjusted my blazer. Checked my shirt for wrinkles. Straightened my posture.
If they were going to look at me, they were going to see someone worth looking at.
The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.
The carpet here was thicker. Softer. The air smelled faintly of something expensive. Wood polish and filtered silence.
The assistant outside the chairman's door gave me a short nod. "Go in."
I pushed open the door.
[Chairman Renard]
He had read the name three times.
Cassian Neville.
On paper, the intern was unremarkable. Standard résumé. Public university. Modest grades. But something in the file didn't add up.
The memo had come from someone he trusted. Not someone who sent messages lightly. The name had been highlighted. No details. Just a note.
"Keep an eye on this one."
Renard didn't ignore notes like that.
He had learned long ago that power didn't always wear a name tag. Sometimes it walked in wearing cheap suits and secondhand shoes.
So he looked deeper. Quietly.
Cassian's background wasn't impressive, but it was consistent. No sports, no clubs, no networks. Yet always just slightly ahead of where he should be. Always climbing. Alone.
And then there was the incident.
Something minor, easily missed. A discrepancy in one of the files logged during the merger cleanup. A record that had been quietly corrected before anyone else noticed.
Most would've overlooked it. But Renard had eyes.
He hadn't told anyone about that part. Especially not the person who flagged the name.
There was no need.
He wanted to see the boy himself.
The door opened.
Cassian walked in.
Renard saw it instantly.
The way he stood, shoulders just slightly too straight. Eyes alert but guarded. A cheap blazer worn like armor.
He was nervous. But not afraid.
Interesting.
He was young. Early twenties. Lean. Pale from office light. Dark hair, combed carefully. Eyes that didn't match his age. Eyes that had seen more than they were supposed to.
Renard had interviewed hundreds of interns over the years. They came and went. Eager, anxious, replaceable.
Cassian didn't look eager. Or anxious.
He looked ready for something.
"Mr. Neville," Renard said, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Please, sit."
Cassian sat. Carefully. Back straight, hands resting loosely on his thighs.
Renard studied him for a moment longer, then leaned back.
"You've been with us for, what, two months?"
"Yes, sir."
"And how are you finding it?"
Cassian paused. "Educational."
That made Renard smile. A flicker.
"I like that. Not many interns would use that word. Most say 'good experience.'"
Cassian didn't reply.
Renard laced his fingers together. "Tell me, Mr. Neville. What do you want?"
Cassian didn't blink. "You mean in the long run?"
"No. I mean now. Right now. Sitting here."
A beat of silence. Then:
"I want to know why I'm here."
Direct. Not defensive.
Renard nodded slowly. "Fair enough. The truth is, someone upstairs mentioned your name. Said you might be worth watching."
He watched Cassian's face carefully.
There was a flicker. Just a small shift behind the eyes. But it was gone quickly.
"And why would they say that?" Cassian asked.
"That's what I'd like to find out."
Renard opened a folder on his desk. Pulled out a single page.
"Tell me about this."
He slid the paper across the desk. A printout of a log file. One of the entries highlighted.
Cassian looked at it. Recognized it.
His mind worked quickly. He knew what the file was. Knew the exact moment he had altered that entry. Covered a gap. Smoothed over a trace.
He looked back up.
"I remember it. It was an inconsistency in the merger files. Looked like an input error. I flagged it in my notes."
"You did," Renard said. "And then you fixed it."
Cassian didn't answer.
Renard tapped a pen against the desk.
"Most interns wouldn't have touched that file. Most wouldn't have noticed it."
He let the silence hang.
Cassian sat still. Waiting.
Renard leaned forward. "Do you know why I called you up here, Mr. Neville?"
Cassian said nothing.
"Because there are two kinds of people in this world," Renard continued. "The kind who wait for permission. And the kind who act before anyone notices. I wanted to see which one you were."
He paused. Then added:
"And whether you knew the difference."
Cassian's voice was quiet. "I think I do."
Renard nodded. "Good."
He sat back again.
"You've got sharp instincts. And you don't flinch easily. That's rare."
Cassian met his eyes.
"I grew up without a safety net, sir. You learn to look down before you jump."
That made Renard smile again. This time, longer.
"I like you."
He closed the folder.
"There's a team working on a more sensitive project. High-pressure, confidential. They could use someone like you. Interested?"
Cassian didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Renard stood. Cassian followed.
"One more thing," the chairman said. "Do you believe in luck, Mr. Neville?"
Cassian tilted his head slightly. "I believe luck is just timing other people didn't notice."
Renard chuckled. "You'll do fine."
He held out his hand.
Cassian shook it.
Then walked out.