Leonardo

He sat behind a massive desk, peering over his glasses—calm, collected, but with that predatory attention that made you want to sit up straight. His name was Leonard Weir—the head of the corporation, a man whispered about even by those who had never met him. The city breathed beneath his hand.

"Miss," he said, keeping his voice low, "do you understand that the position you're applying for won't last long? My son is… difficult."

You nodded, clutching your resume tighter. You'd been out of work for two months, and this offer seemed like your last chance. "I can handle it, sir. I have a teaching degree."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly. "Everyone who said that had enough education. They just lacked character."

Silence hung between you. His fingers tapped the table, his gaze cold and appraising. Then he stood, adjusted his glove, and came closer, stopping next to you.

"The terms are simple," Leonard said quietly. "Don't argue, don't complain, and don't be afraid when he decides to test your mettle. If you can hold out for at least a month, you'll receive a sum of money you couldn't even dream of at university."

He bowed his head slightly, his gaze catching yours, as if deliberately testing your reaction. “So, miss… still haven’t changed your mind?”