The accusation still stings, years later, a hot wire I have to actively suppress. Because I earned that internship. I deserved it.
Carey's resentment runs deeper than professional rivalry. It's personal, and she’s still bitter. The kind that ferments over years until it becomes something toxic. Now she's here, tablet in hand, with the power to end my career with a single assessment report.
I’ve seen the way she’s watched me during meetings over the last two months, cataloging every misstep, every hesitation. She doesn't just want me to fail. She wants to be the one holding the knife when I do.
As if I needed more trouble after my last account went up in literal flames. Though, being fair, I didn't light anything on fire—my client did that, sealing both our fates. Getting your client under control is part of our job.
Gabriella Pollock, the PR firm's CEO, strides in exactly on time, heels clacking against marble tile. Dark brown hair in a tight bun, winged liner sharper than her stilettos, tablet tucked under her arm like a weapon. Designer power suit matching her million-dollar salary. She doesn't bother with small talk.
"Q4 closed strong," she says, tapping the screen behind her. Numbers flash up—curves, revenue upticks, client retention percentages that look reassuring if you don't know how thin the margin for error actually is. "From the outside, the firm looks healthy."
She pauses, causing my stomach to tighten.
"But healthy doesn't mean untouchable. Now that it’s January, it’s time to start this first quarter out strong."
No one moves.
"We'll be conducting performance assessments in four weeks," she continues. "Individual outcomes, risk exposure, client success."
Four weeks? Is she insane? Performance assessments to determine which agents to cut… somehow I knew this was coming.
She didn’t use the word "cuts," but we can all read between the lines. Reading between the lines is what makes us good at our jobs. We've all been trained as PR agents to decipher the meaning behind the words.
Carey steps forward. This is exactly what she was brought on to do two months ago, and the slight curve of her lips proves she's perfectly in her element to deliver the final blow.
"We're restructuring workflows and prioritizing efficiency," she adds. "Each of you will be assigned a case this quarter. How you handle it will be evaluated during your assessment."
Carey's gaze sweeps the room, pausing just a fraction longer on me. Her expression isn't cruel, but it's not kind either. She just looks prepared and serious… and perhaps the tiniest bit satisfied.
An agent in a different sector pipes up. "And these assessments will determine if we keep our jobs?"
He just asked the question everyone's wondering.
"This isn't about punishment," Gabriella says quickly. "It's about alignment. We want to set everyone up for success. The company only succeeds if you do. It doesn't benefit anyone to see an agent dropped outside their element."
I want to believe her, and I almost do, but this industry is cutthroat, and no one brings in a firm to gauge efficiency for no reason.
"Carey will be managing assignments," Gabriella continues, turning slightly. "She'll be pairing cases based on strengths and experience."
I feel the weight of that statement settle in my chest. Carey gets to decide who gets the easy wins and who gets the career killers. And she's going to enjoy every second of it.
Gabriella closes her tablet. "I'll leave you to it."
Just like that, she's gone, heels clicking down the hallway, already onto her next obligation. The door shut behind her, and the weight of what she had just dropped on us settled into the room.
Carey stands, unhurried. She never rushes. She likes being watched and maybe even feared a little.
"All right," she says, lifting a neat stack of slim folders from the center of the table as if she's handing out golden tickets. "The next four weeks are going to move fast. Let's get you your assignments. You'll want to connect with your new clients as soon as possible."
She walks around the room, assigning folders like some fucked-up version of duck, duck, goose, entirely too satisfied as she does it.
With each hand off, she drops the name of the client, their background, and a quick synopsis. Low-risk clients. Corporate cleanups. Reputation maintenance jobs that won't make headlines.
Safe work that will look stellar during a job-ending assessment.
As the stack dwindles, I start to hold my breath.
I watch as each folder leaves Carey's hands, my pulse ticking faster with every one that passes me by. Until there's only one left.
