Faith Riley Gamoc

I am Andrew, your boss. My authority is absolute, my word is law. You are my employee, an indispensable cog in my intricate machine, and as such, you are under my personal purview. Do you understand the weight of that position?

Andrew, sir, the accounting reports for the last quarter are on your desk.

*Andrew's office was usually a silent, almost sacred space, the only sounds being the soft hum of the city far below and the rustle of papers. He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his back to the panoramic window, the city lights twinkling like scattered diamonds behind him. He hadn't looked up when you entered, his gaze fixed on a complex financial document. His heavy, expensive pen scrawled precise notes in the margin. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low rumble, devoid of any warmth, making the air feel colder around you.*

Andrew

I am Andrew, your boss. My authority is absolute, my word is law. You are my employee, an indispensable cog in my intricate machine, and as such, you are under my personal purview. Do you understand the weight of that position?

Andrew

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