Monday arrived sharper than she expected.
Olivia stepped out of the taxi in a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into beige trousers, a soft blazer resting on her shoulders, and the same heels she had sprinted in two days earlier — now polished, professional, purposeful.
Harrington Global rose in front of her like a monument carved out of ambition.
Glass. Steel. Precision.
A building that demanded greatness before the elevator doors even opened.
Olivia took a breath so deep it trembled.
"Today… I start," she whispered, soft but certain.
The revolving doors accepted her again, but the air inside felt different this time — colder, heavier, as if the building itself was watching, measuring. She wasn't a desperate candidate anymore.
She was supposed to be part of this.
Or so she thought.
At the reception, Olivia introduced herself with a polite, confident smile.
"Good morning. I'm Olivia Watson, the new intern."
The receptionist scanned her badge, expression professional and unreadable.
"Welcome to Harrington Global, Ms. Watson. Please proceed to the 45th floor — HR orientation."
Olivia stepped into the elevator, surrounded by polished mirrors and silent strangers dressed in power. As the elevator shot upward, so did her heartbeat.
45th floor.
The doors opened to a long corridor with frosted glass walls and a conference room humming with quiet conversations. A dozen other trainees sat inside, each with nervous excitement sparkling in their eyes.
Olivia took a seat near the middle — not too eager, not too hidden.
A woman in a dark red blazer entered, carrying a stack of thick white documents. She didn't smile.
Without a word, she began distributing the sheets.
The room fell silent.
Olivia glanced down.
Internship Agreement
— Harrington Global Corporation
Two years.
Mandatory.
Binding.
And then her eyes caught the line that made her stomach drop:
<"IF THE INTERN DECIDES TO TERMINATE THE INTERNSHIP BEFORE COMPLETING THE TWO YEAR DURATION, THEY ARE REQUIRED TO PAY A COMPENSATION FEE OF 2000 USD TO HARRINGTON GLOBAL CORPORATION."
Her fingers stiffened on the page.
The woman finally spoke, her voice clipped, rehearsed, and firm.
"Before you begin your work here, you are required to sign this contract. No exceptions."
A ripple of discomfort passed through the room. Someone swallowed. Someone whispered, "Two thousand dollars?"
The lady continued, her expression unchanged.
"This internship is competitive. Many want it. You earned your place — don't take it lightly. Harrington Global expects commitment. Loyalty. Discipline.
If you cannot provide that, do not sign."
Her gaze swept across the trainees like a scanner.
Olivia felt her throat tighten. Two years was long. Two thousand dollars was worse. She didn't even have twenty dollars left spare in her account.
But walking away on the first day?
Unthinkable.
Clouds slid across the tall windows, dimming the room slightly as her pen hovered over the signature line.
A breath of fear.
A push of ambition.
A choice she couldn't undo.
And she signed.
Her first day had officially begun —
and she had stepped into something far larger and far heavier than she ever imagined.
The moment the signatures dried, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The woman in the dark red blazer collected the contracts with a swift, practiced movement.
"Your department allocations will appear on your badges. Go to your respective floors. Your supervisors are expecting you."
Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she left — a sound too sharp to belong in a room full of nervous young interns who had just signed away two years of their lives.
Everyone looked at their badges immediately.
Olivia Watson — Floor 32
Department: Corporate Communications
Her stomach tightened.
This was the department she wanted… but suddenly it felt heavier than she imagined.
Small groups of trainees walked out, whispering in low voices.
"Two years? That's insane."
"My parents won't believe this."
"The overtime clause… did you see that?"
"I heard Harrington squeezes interns hard."
Olivia walked beside two girls she had met earlier.
"I'm Claire," one of them said with a bright but shaky smile. "Marketing. I'm pretending I didn't see the part about night shifts."
The other girl nodded. "Jenna. Finance. This place feels… intense."
Olivia exhaled softly. "Same here."
Soon their paths split, and Olivia stepped into the elevator to Floor 32 alone.
---
THE WORKPLACE
The doors opened to a world of fast footsteps, muted phone conversations, and glass partitions that made everything look clean but cold.
The Corporate Communications floor was alive with movement — designers editing promotional boards, writers tapping furiously at keyboards, and screens streaming live data.
A woman with silver hair approached Olivia with a folder tucked under her arm.
"Olivia Watson?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. I'm Ms. Avery, your supervisor. Welcome."
Her tone was polite but brisk — no time for warm smiles.
"You'll assist with content drafts, reports, and team presentations. The learning curve is steep, but we expect interns to adapt quickly."
Then she tapped Olivia's badge.
"You're cleared for night-shift rotation. You'll receive your schedule by evening."
Night.
Shift.
The words echoed in Olivia's head long after Ms. Avery walked away.
She sat at her assigned desk — clean, minimal, with a gold-embossed notebook marked Harrington Global.
Around her, the other interns took their seats too, some excited, some tense.
Slow introductions followed.
Where they studied.
Why they applied.
What they feared most about the contract.
But every conversation returned to the same topic—
Overtime.
Night shifts.
The binding two-year term.
"They treat us like full-time employees," one intern muttered.
"With none of the pay," another added.
Olivia forced a small smile. "At least we're all in it together."
A few laughed at that — tired, but comforted.
Maybe that was enough for now.
---
LUNCH BREAK
At exactly 1:00 PM, the group headed down two floors to the canteen.
The room was huge — bright lights, long counters, the smell of freshly baked bread mixing with coffee. Employees filled the space with chatter, laptops, and deadlines.
Olivia picked her food — pasta and iced coffee — and sat with the others at a long table near the main counter.
The moment they settled, the conversations came loose again, full of nervous energy.
Claire stabbed her fork into her salad. "Night shifts… I mean, seriously? Are we supposed to survive that?"
Jenna sighed. "My parents thought internships were supposed to be soft and educational. I'm not telling them about the 2000-dollar clause."
A boy from IT adjusted his glasses. "I heard the workload here is… unpredictable. Some departments get calls at random hours."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "For what? Emergencies?"
He shrugged. "No idea. Just Harrington things."
Claire leaned forward. "What about your families?"
"My mom cried when I said I got accepted," another girl said. "If she knew the contract details, she'd probably show up here tomorrow."
Everyone laughed — a tired, shared laugh.
Olivia relaxed a little.
This wasn't just her struggle.
They were all navigating the same pressure, the same fear, the same strange sense of being swallowed by a massive corporate system that didn't care how young they were.
But they were also building something —
a group,
a circle,
a support system.
For a moment, that made Harrington feel a little less intimidating.
A little.
After lunch, the interns returned to their floors, a little more relaxed but still uncertain.
Olivia's first assignment arrived almost immediately.
Ms. Avery placed a thin folder on her desk.
"Read this campaign brief. Summarize the key points and prepare a short draft for tomorrow's meeting."
A meeting.
On day one.
Olivia nodded quickly, even though her heart jumped.
"I'll get it done, ma'am."
Around her, the other interns were also thrown straight into work.
Claire from Marketing was gathering data sheets with a confused laugh.
Jenna from Finance stared at complicated spreadsheets like they were written in another language.
Everyone was overwhelmed — equally, silently.
Olivia opened her folder.
The campaign was for a major product launch.
Pages filled with strategy, audience profiles, and deadlines.
So many deadlines.
She took a deep breath and began reading, jotting small notes in the gold-embossed notebook the company had given her.
As she worked, she noticed something:
No one was talking loudly.
No one was distracted.
Every employee — intern or senior — worked like every minute counted.
The pace pulled her in.
By the next hour, she was fully focused, typing her first draft, crossing lines, rewriting sentences. The pressure was heavy, but there was something addictive about the speed of it.
Somewhere behind her, someone whispered,
"I didn't expect real tasks on day one…"
Another replied quietly,
"They don't waste time here."
Olivia smiled faintly.
They were right.
Harrington Global wasn't here to ease them in.
This place threw you straight into the flames and expected you to rise.
And as Olivia worked on her first draft, she realized—
If she survived this rhythm,
she might actually thrive here.
By late afternoon, Olivia had rewritten her draft three times. Her eyes were tired, her shoulders stiff, but her work finally looked clean enough to submit.
She placed the printed summary on Ms. Avery's desk.
Ms. Avery skimmed it quickly, her expression unreadable.
"Good start," she said simply.
"But tomorrow will be heavier. Be prepared."
It wasn't praise, but it wasn't criticism either.
For Harrington Global, that counted as encouragement.
When the clock hit 6:00 PM, the office lights dimmed slightly — the subtle signal that the regular shift was ending. Senior employees began packing up, though many stayed glued to their screens.
The interns exchanged tired smiles, quietly acknowledging:
We survived Day One.
Olivia collected her things, feeling a mix of exhaustion and pride. As she stepped into the elevator with the others, there was a soft buzz of relief.
"Today was… intense," Claire said.
Jenna nodded. "I can't feel my brain anymore."
Olivia let out a small laugh. "At least we didn't get yelled at."
The elevator opened to the lobby, warm lights spilling across the marble floor. For the first time that day, Olivia felt her chest loosen.
Outside, the evening air was cooler, calmer — nothing like the sharp morning rush she'd walked through.
She paused on the pavement and looked up at the towering glass building she would now see every day.
It was intimidating.
Demanding.
Relentless.
But it was also an opportunity — one she had chased for years.
Her phone buzzed.
A notification.
Night-shift schedule released.
Check your company inbox.
Olivia swallowed.
Day One was over…
but Harrington Global wasn't done with her yet.
She exhaled, tucked her phone back into her bag, and headed home — already bracing herself for Day Two.