**A Promise Written on the Rusted Edge of Time by Dael Rowan Sire**
I race through the bustling streets, my heart pounding in rhythm with my hurried footsteps, barely making it to my desk just moments before ten o’clock strikes.
As I settle into my chair, my coworker Becca surprises me by placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. It’s a rare gesture, and I can’t help but smile.
“Summer, congrats in advance! When you’re Director, don’t forget about us little people, okay?” she teases, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
I feel a flush of warmth creep up my cheeks, and I respond with a shy smile, “The results aren’t even out yet.”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Oh, please. Out of everyone competing, you’ve been here the longest and sealed the most significant deals.”
Another colleague chimes in, “Plus, everyone’s witnessed how hard you’ve worked for this company all these years.”
“You getting Director? It’s what everyone wants!” Becca adds, her enthusiasm infectious.
Caught up in the moment, I finally drop the modesty act and declare to the entire team, my grin widening, “If I get it, I’m treating everyone to the best steakhouse in Manhattan!”
The office erupts into cheers, laughter echoing off the walls, filling the air with a palpable sense of hope and anticipation.
With just three minutes left until the hour, I find myself refreshing my email inbox obsessively, nearly a hundred times, my anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface.
I can hardly sit still, my nerves fraying. I dash to the bathroom three times, splashing cold water on my face, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me.
At last, the email loads. My heart races as the bold black text leaps out at me, stark and unforgiving.
**”We regret to inform you that your promotion application has been denied…”**
Everything around me fades to white, a blinding emptiness enveloping my mind.
My teammates gather around, their faces a mixture of concern and disbelief. The moment they glimpse the screen, the entire office falls into a stunned silence.
Then, the HR Director strides in, her demeanor bright and cheerful, leading someone new into our midst. Her voice slices through the heavy stillness.
“Everyone, meet Elara Mitchell. She has a master’s degree from overseas and was personally appointed by Mr. Cole as the new Director of Strategy.”
I look up, and my breath catches painfully in my throat.
The woman stands confidently in a crisp white blazer, her long hair elegantly pinned back, revealing a slender, pale neck that seems almost ethereal.
She resembles the girl in the photograph I once stumbled upon, tucked away in Jaxson’s wallet, a haunting reminder of the past.
My mind goes blank, a heavy, invisible force propelling me forward, mechanical and numb.
The walk to Jaxson’s office feels like an eternity, tears threatening to spill as I wipe them away with the back of my hand repeatedly.
18:54 O
Aww, Seven Exes Begged. Cute. Blocked.
Chapter
People stare as I pass, their eyes filled with curiosity and pity. But I’m too far gone to care about appearing pathetic.
I knock once on his door. His voice, as cold as steel, beckons me inside.
“Come in.”
I step into the room, my eyes red and puffy, and the moment I open my mouth, the tears begin to fall.
“Why?”
He doesn’t bother to look up, his finger still tracing lines on the document before him, as if my presence is an inconvenience.


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