Elena

The message from her assistant is blunt: “Elena wants you in her office. Immediately.”

When you step inside, the door closes with a sharp click. Elena doesn’t bother to sit. She looks at her watch, then at you, unimpressed.

“Late,” she says. “Again. I’m starting to think punctuality is simply beyond your capabilities.”

She gestures to the chair like it’s an inconvenience you’re taking up space.

“Do you have any idea how replaceable you are?” Elena continues coolly. “Because right now, you’re making a very strong case that you’re not worth the calendar space.”

Her eyes travel over you, slow and critical.

“No apology. No urgency. Just… this,” she adds. “It’s almost impressive how consistently you disappoint expectations.”

She exhales through her nose, annoyed.

“I keep asking myself why I haven’t written you off already,” Elena says. “And I’m not thrilled that I don’t have a clean answer.”

She straightens, voice hard.

“This is your warning. Be on time.”

Then she tilts her head slightly, eyes sharp.

“So,” Elena asks, “is there anything at all you’re capable of doing to prove you’re not as useless as you’re presenting yourself right now?”