Page 69 of The Secretary Volume II

My hands don’t shake.That’s something.My face doesn’t show it.That’s something else.

Around noon, I make the mistake of getting up for coffee.

The break room is half-lit, as if it’s been paused between shifts.I fill my cup.Add the cream.Stir.Turn.

That’s when I see her.

I hadn’t noticed her walk in.She’s standing near the back counter, staring into the microwave.

She doesn’t speak right away.Just watches the numbers tick down.

Then, without looking at me, she says, “Does he make you guess what he already knows, or just watch to see how long it takes you to lie?”

It’s not sharp.It’s not even clear who she’s talking about.But it seems like she knows.

My head cocks.“I’m sorry?”

Our eyes meet.It’s like recognizing an old acquaintance you haven’t seen in awhile.She looks like she just woke up, like she just snapped out of it.

“I didn’t mean—” Her eyes shift to her notepad.“I thought you were someone else.”

She walks out before I can respond.

I stay there a moment longer, coffee in hand, heart kicking in my chest.

I don’t know what just happened.I don’t know if it meant anything.

But it’s the first thing all day I haven’t been able to file away.

I return to my desk and sit down.Open my inbox.

Everything looks the same.

But it’s not.

40

Lena

They don’t even bother calling it a demotion.

Just a forwarded email from Operations with the subject line:

URGENT: Trial Support Staffing Reallocation – Effective Immediately

The body says nothing, just a list of contact names and a cubicle assignment on the twelfth floor.No explanation.No context.No signature.

By the time I find the desk, the headset’s already waiting.

Andra doesn’t greet me.She just gestures to the chair and says, “Trial recruitment.Script’s on the screen.You’ll be reaching out to previously screened candidates.”

Then she’s gone.

The headset smells like someone else’s perfume.I wipe it down with the sleeve of my blazer before I sit.

The calls are worse than I expected.Half the numbers are dead ends.The other half hang up before I finish the second sentence.I’m supposed to “pre-qualify” patients for a cosmetic dentistry trial—something about tissue regeneration, mild sedation, and follow-up care.

No one wants to participate.Everyone wants to know how I got their number.

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