Camellia's POV
At exactly 8 a.m. on Monday, the sound of my heels clicking against the marble floor of NovaStar Pharmaceuticals' lobby set a precise rhythm.
Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft golden glow on the access card the HR specialist handed me.
In the reflection of the R&D director's glass office, I adjusted my collar.
Blanche Green looked up from her desk, piled high with documents. Her gray-blue eyes scanned me like a CT machine, taking in my dark gray suit.
"Top graduate from Johns Hopkins, with a five-year career gap," she said, sliding my resume across the reclaimed wood desk. Her nails tapped the blank space. "Explain."
I swallowed. "I had to handle family matters."
"This isn't a counseling session," she said sharply, standing up
