Page 41 of The Secretary Volume II (The After Hours #2)

40

Lena

T hey don’t even bother calling it a demotion.

Just a forwarded email from Operations with the subject line:

URGENT: Trial Support Staffing Reallocation – Effective Immediately

The body says nothing, just a list of contact names and a cubicle assignment on the twelfth floor. No explanation. No context. No signature.

By the time I find the desk, the headset’s already waiting.

Andra doesn’t greet me. She just gestures to the chair and says, “Trial recruitment. Script’s on the screen. You’ll be reaching out to previously screened candidates.”

Then she’s gone.

The headset smells like someone else’s perfume. I wipe it down with the sleeve of my blazer before I sit.

The calls are worse than I expected. Half the numbers are dead ends. The other half hang up before I finish the second sentence. I’m supposed to “pre-qualify” patients for a cosmetic dentistry trial—something about tissue regeneration, mild sedation, and follow-up care.

No one wants to participate. Everyone wants to know how I got their number.

By hour two, I’ve memorized the script. By hour three, I’ve stopped reading it. By hour four, I’ve stopped pretending it matters.

I might as well go back to the temp agency. This is worse than trying to sell life insurance.

I don’t know who I pissed off to get assigned here, but I have a shortlist.

Somewhere behind the divider, I hear Andra’s voice—low but not whispering.

“He’s been off since the trip. Just—checked out.”

“Yeah,” Stewy says. “I’ve never seen him like this. Canceled two meetings. Didn’t even look at the quarterly brief.”

A pause. A flick of static from someone’s headset.

“Think it was her?”

“I mean…” Stewy draws it out. “She was the only one with him that night.”

“You saw his face when the plane landed.”

“Yeah,” Stewy agrees. “Like someone died.”

They both laugh, but it’s the kind that hides something sharper.

“Well,” Andra says. “She’s not exactly playing to win, is she?”

A silence. A file drops on a desk. Someone walks away.

I stay where I am. Headset in my lap. Heart beating like it’s trying to take sides.

Speaking of my boss, at least I don’t have to see him. Not that I was expecting some grand reunion. But I’d be lying if I said part of me wasn’t still waiting for something. A text. A ping. A sentence. Anything.

But no. It’s radio silence and cold calls.

I tell myself not to worry. It’s just office gossip. Just Andra being Andra, Stewy being Stewy. But it sticks anyway—what they said about him being off. Checked out.

What if it wasn’t nothing?

What if I got under his skin more than I thought?

I don’t know why that matters. It shouldn’t. But it does.

Instead of answers, I get Stewy.

He appears in the doorway like he’s walked onto a late-night talk show. “There she is. Lena Blackwell, making power moves.”

I put the headset back on. “If this is a power move, I’m failing upwards.”

He grins. “You still have your wisdom teeth?”

“What?”

“Your wisdom teeth.”

Andra appears behind him. “We’re taking bets.”

This is not odd at all.

“No,” I say. “Had them out in college.”

Stewy makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Shame.”

Andra doesn’t smile. There’s no contact. Just the command. “Come with us.”

“I’m on shift,” I point out, gesturing to the screen still blinking with auto-dial failures.

“You’re good,” Stewy says. “We cleared it.”

“Where are we going?”

Andra steps inside. “Bring your personal items. Shut down the computer.”

I hesitate. “Is something wrong?”

Stewy shrugs. “Not yet.”

It’s meant to be funny. It isn’t.

They don’t say another word until we’re in the SUV.

The driver doesn’t look me in the eye. He just drives.

“What is this?” I ask.

Andra punches at her phone screen. “We’re going to the facility.”

“What facility?”

“You’ll see,” Stewy says, cheerful. “It’s just part of your onboarding.”

“Pretty sure I already onboarded.”

Andra glances up. “This is supplemental. Internal compliance. You’ll be doing us a favor.”

“This is a lot of effort for a favor.”

“We’re short participants,” she says. “It’s a minor procedure. Minimal recovery. Monday, you’ll be back at your desk.”

“Procedure?”

Stewy turns around in his seat. “Gum grafting. Totally safe. You’ll be asleep the whole time.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s serious. “No thanks. My gums are great.”

“Exactly,” he says. “That’s why it’s perfect. Zero bias. Clean data.”

I look to Andra, waiting for her to shut it down. She doesn’t.

“Why not just delay the trial?” My voice is even, but it’s not really meant to be a question.

Andra sighs. “That’s not how this works.”

“I’ve seen it done.”

“Not here,” she says. “Shergar doesn’t miss deadlines.”

I press the heel of my hand against my temple. “I have work to do.”

“You’ll be able to work remotely.”

“I’m not comfortable with this.”

“You will be,” Stewy says. “They have new tech. It’s basically a nap.”

“You’ve been calling people all day,” Andra adds. “You know how hard it is to get someone to say yes. We’re not asking for your firstborn, Lena. We’re just asking you to step up.”

“You’re asking me to get oral surgery.”

“It’s not surgery,” she says. “It’s a demonstration.”

“Of what?”

“Resilience,” Stewy says, handing me a tablet. “Just sign anywhere.”

I hesitate.

Andra leans in slightly. “This is a chance to show the partners you’re adaptable.”

The word partners lands with a thud in my chest. Not Ellis. Not my boss. The next tier up. The invisible decision-makers.

“Lena,” she says, softer now. “They’ll remember who helped.”

I look at the tablet. The box is already highlighted.

Stewy says, “We’re all counting on you.”

I think about going back to that cubicle. To the cold calls.

I sign.

And just like that, I become the clean data.