The message appeared on his cracked screen, glowing faintly through raindrops clinging stubbornly to the glass, carrying a strange urgency that made his pulse stumble with an emotion he could not immediately identify.
It read: “Return to the entrance immediately. Your presence is required for an unexpected matter. Do not leave the building area.” No signature accompanied the message, creating heavy tension instantly.
Mateo blinked twice, uncertain whether the message had been misdelivered, his trembling thumb hovering above the screen as he struggled to understand why anyone inside would summon him back.
He hesitated only briefly before standing, water dripping steadily from his sleeves, heart pounding with faint hope mixed dangerously with exhaustion and disappointment still clinging like shadows.
Approaching the building again, he saw a black luxury car parked before the glass doors, its engine humming smoothly, contrasting sharply with the storm’s fading growl across city rooftops.
Beside it stood Cyrus, dry now, wearing a different suit, polished and commanding, yet carrying unmistakable warmth in his eyes as he waved Mateo forward decisively.
“Mateo,” he called, voice firm but grateful, “come with me immediately. There are things we must clarify, and you deserve explanations far greater than brief apologies whispered in passing.”
Confused, Mateo stepped closer, glancing between Cyrus and the intimidating building that had rejected him minutes earlier, silently hoping this encounter might not be another cruel misdirection.
Cyrus opened the rear door, revealing the elderly woman inside, wrapped warmly now, her fragile hands resting delicately atop a blanket embroidered with familiar corporate symbols.
Her eyes brightened upon seeing him, softening wrinkles shaped by decades of quiet authority, compassion, and a strength she no longer wielded physically but still commanded effortlessly through presence.
“Come in, son,” she said gently, her voice carrying delicate insistence, “we have much to discuss, and little time should be wasted after the kindness you offered without expectations.”
Mateo obeyed hesitantly, aware of the pristine leather absorbing raindrops falling from his clothes, embarrassed yet unable to refuse her sincere invitation to join the quiet sanctuary.
Cyrus closed the door and sat opposite him, posture straight, hands folded, gaze locked with a seriousness Mateo felt settle deeply inside his uneasy chest.
“That company you rushed toward,” Cyrus began slowly, “is mine. I am the chief executive officer, and today’s interview candidates were handpicked personally by my recruitment board.”
The revelation hit Mateo like a shockwave, making his breath stutter, heart clench, and mind race through possibilities he never imagined while running through storm-soaked streets earlier.
“My mother,” Cyrus continued, gesturing softly toward the elderly woman, “is the founder who built everything decades ago, and her safety matters more than any operational procedure inside these walls.”
The woman touched Cyrus’s hand lovingly before turning her gaze back toward Mateo with a gentle, steady expression radiating gratitude deeper than words alone could convey today.
“You chose humanity over ambition,” she murmured tenderly. “And that choice reveals character far more valuable than any punctual arrival or flawless résumé weighed against rigid expectations.”
Cyrus nodded firmly, eyes sharpening. “When you refused our offer for a ride, I respected your humility. But I could not ignore the fact you sacrificed opportunity to protect her.”
He leaned forward, voice lowering. “The board rejected you because of lateness. But they did not know the reason. I hold authority to override their decision immediately upon justified cause.”
Mateo swallowed hard, hands cold, unsure whether daring to hope would wound him further or finally lift him above the exhausting cycle defining recent months.
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