Now he was in it, so close he could see his reflection in the mirrored windows. I read your file, Clare said suddenly. My file? his brows furrowed. “Yes,” she said, tapping the folder in her lap. “I keep an eye on all candidates for certain positions. You were on my list for a logistics coordinator role.
Do you know why?” Noah shook his head slowly. “Your resume is unconventional,” she continued. Marine Corps veteran, two commenations for bravery, small business owner for three years, volunteer at a community shelter. You’re not just qualified, you’re resourceful. But HR said you’d never make it past the formal process.
Too rough around the edges. His stomach nodded. And they were right. I didn’t even get in the room. She leaned back, crossing her legs. That’s the flaw in the system. The wrong people decide who gets a shot. I prefer to see for myself. Her gaze softened. And this morning, I did. Noah looked away, staring at the rain streaking the tinted glass.
I wasn’t trying to impress you. I just I know, she said, cutting him off. That’s the point. The SUV slowed, turning into a private garage beneath one of the tallest towers. As the doors closed behind them, Clare set the folder aside. You’ve got one chance to prove yourself, Mr. Carter. Not in 6 months.
Not next week. Right now. He raised an eyebrow. What’s the catch? No catch? She replied smoothly. just a problem no one else has been able to solve. The elevator doors opened and she stepped out without looking back. You helped me out of the mud, Noah. Let’s see if you can do the same for my company. The elevator ride to the top floor was silent except for the faint hum of the motor.
Noah stood beside Clare, still dripping rainwater onto the spotless marble floor. His boots squeakaked with every slight movement, sounding painfully, out of place in the gleaming, high-tech world around him. When the doors slid open, the atmosphere changed instantly. Chaos. Phones rang non-stop.
Voices overlapped and the large digital screen on the wall flashed system failure in bold red letters. Several employees rushed past carrying stacks of papers, their faces pale and tense. Clare didn’t break stride. “Conference room now,” she called out, and three senior-looking staff members scrambled to follow.
She gestured for Noah to come with her. “Inside,” the room was all glass walls and polished chrome, overlooking a skyline blurred by rain. A long table dominated the center, scattered with laptops, coffee cups, and documents. One man, gray-haired and sweating, blurted out, “Claire, the distribution tracking system crashed last night.
We’ve got shipments in six states unaccounted for. If we don’t restore it today, we’re looking at millions in penalties.” “Millions?” another added grimly. “And lost clients. We’ve already had three call to threaten termination. Clare dropped into her chair, calm but deadly focused. So fix it. The gay-haired man’s voice faltered.
Ma’am, our IT lead says it could take a week, maybe longer. Noah shifted, recognizing the layout of the diagrams on the table, his brows knit together. This This is your logistics dashboard. The room turned toward him as if they’d forgotten he was even there. Clare’s eyes narrowed. “You know it.
