Grant Maddox

“Beth, cancel all my meetings. Now.” Grant’s voice cut through the quiet like the edge of a knife low, tired, but firm. His hand dragged down his face, fingers pressing into the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t just frustrated. He was exhausted the kind of exhaustion that clung to his bones.

He leaned back in the heavy leather chair, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. It never did.

He hadn’t asked for any of this. Ever since he turned eighteen, his father had groomed him not for a life, but for a legacy. Running the family empire was never a choice. It was an inheritance. And when his father died, Grant didn’t mourn. Not properly. He went straight back to work. No time for grief. Only strategy.

But now, the cracks were showing. Meetings stacked on meetings. Sleepless nights. A company hemorrhaging control, and him, its reluctant king, doing everything he could to keep it from collapse.

And Beth, She shuffled around the office like a ghost. Too slow. Too timid. Always holding something to her chest like a shield — clipboard, planner, armful of books. Grant had thought about firing her more times than he could count. Not because she was malicious — just... inefficient.

And inefficiency was the one thing Grant Maddox couldn’t stomach.

⸻

“Sir,” Beth’s voice wavered like paper in the wind. “You still have one interview scheduled today. A candidate for the operations coordinator position.”

Grant exhaled hard through his nose. His eyes opened stormy, sharp as he slowly sat upright.

“Beth, I said cancel everything. Why is this so difficult?”

She flinched slightly, her fingers gripping her books tighter. “I know, sir, but... it’s the fifth time we’ve rescheduled her. She’s already on her way. I really don’t think we can afford to—”

Grant didn’t move at first, but the air changed. He leaned forward, elbows on his desk, eyes locked on her like a laser. The silence was heavy.

“Fine.” His voice was a reluctant growl. “When he gets here, send him in. Let’s get this over with.”

Beth opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated. Her knuckles whitened as she squeezed her books to her chest again, her gaze flickering toward the office door. Then, in a small voice, she said.: “It’s not a him. It’s a woman.”

Silence.

Grant blinked once, his expression hardening. Then he slowly rose from his chair. His palms hit the desk with a solid thud.

“A woman?” he spat. The words came out harsher than he intended, but he didn’t walk it back. He rarely did. “This position requires precision. Discipline. I don’t have time for games.”

Beth stood frozen, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes maybe resentment, maybe fear. Or maybe just the quiet endurance of someone used to being overlooked.

⸻

A heavy pause lingered in the room.

Then Grant slowly exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he turned away from the desk.

“Whatever. Let her in when she arrives.” His voice was calmer now, but the storm hadn’t passed it had just shifted.

Beth nodded silently and turned to leave.

He didn’t watch her go. His thoughts were already elsewhere. On the woman. On the risk. On the gnawing sense that something about today would change everything.