---- Chapter 14 Athena POV: The next morning, Eliot knocked on my door at precisely nine o'clock. | opened it to find him holding two coffees, a warm, easy smile on his face. "Ready to see where the magic happens?" he asked. | smiled back. "Lead the way." He held the car door open for me, a small, gentlemanly gesture that felt both old-fashioned and incredibly sweet. Half an hour later, we pulled up to a sleek, modern building with "Serrano Publishing" etched in minimalist lettering on the glass doors. Eliot struck a dramatic pose, gesturing to the entrance. "Welcome to my humble abode!" | playfully slapped his arm. "Okay, we're at work now. You can drop the theatrics." He coughed, straightening his tie. "Right. Business mode. Activated." He led me into the elevator. "First, I'll give you the grand tour so you can see if my company is up to your exacting standards." "I'm mostly just checking to make sure you're not running a ---- sweatshop," | teased. "As a new partner, | have to ensure ethical labor practices." "Wounded!" he cried, clutching his heart. "You wound me! My employees are the happiest, most well-cared-for game developers in the industry." He led me first to the art department. The space was open and bright, filled with natural light. The atmosphere was relaxed and collaborative. Employees had personalized their workstations with action figures and posters. It was the polar opposite of the sterile, high-pressure environment at Morrison Dynamics. "Okay," | admitted, "it's not a sweatshop. I'm impressed." "I'll take you to my office," he said, looking pleased. "We can go over the current project slate." As we walked away, a buzz of excited chatter erupted behind us. In the company's group chat, messages were flying. Employee 1: OMG, did you see that woman with Mr. Serrano? Employee 2: She's gorgeous! |s that his girlfriend? Employee 3: The way he looks at her? 100% girlfriend. He's totally smitten. In his office, Eliot laid out the company's current projects. | listened intently, my mind already whirring with ideas. When he was done, | leaned back in my chair. "Would you mind if | ---- took a walk around on my own? | want to get a feel for the place." "Of course," he said without hesitation, handing me a keycard. "This will get you everywhere you need to go. Make yourself at home." | spent the next hour wandering the halls, observing the different teams. | didn't interrupt; | just watched, absorbing the creative energy of the place. | noticed a recurring design motif-subtle star and galaxy patterns on everything from the carpets to the coffee mugs. An idea began to form in my mind. As | rounded a corner, | overheard two employees whispering excitedly. "That's her! The one with the boss!" "She's even prettier up close. She's holding his all-access card! She's totally the boss's wife!" | ducked away before they could see me, a blush creeping up my neck. | ended my tour back at the art department. My attention was drawn to one young artist who was staring at her screen in frustration. She was working on a background illustration of a night sky, but it looked flat, lifeless. She would paint a section, then sigh and erase it, over and over again. | watched her for a solid ten minutes, a sympathetic smile on my face. Every artist hits a wall like that. ---- | walked over to her workstation. "Excuse me," | said softly. She jumped, startled. "Sorry to interrupt," | said with a gentle smile. "But have you tried using a nebula brush with a lower opacity for the base layer? And then use a splatter brush for the individual stars. It will give the sky more depth and variation." Without thinking, she followed my instructions, her fingers flying across her tablet. The result was instantaneous. The flat, dull image transformed into a breathtaking, swirling galaxy, deep and filled with light. She stared at the screen, her jaw slack with amazement. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with awe. "Who... who are you?" "Just someone who's spent a lot of time painting stars," | said with a small shrug. Just then, my phone rang. It was Eliot. "Hungry? I'm ordering lunch." "Starving," | said. | gave the young artist a final nod and walked away. The moment | was gone, her colleagues swarmed her desk. "What did she say to you?" "Did you see that? She fixed it in like, thirty seconds!" The artist just stared after me, her expression one of pure ---- reverence. "| don't know who she is," she whispered, "but | think the boss just hired a god." Her supervisor, who had overheard our exchange from his office, stared at a message on his screen. It was from Eliot. "Our special guest today is PixelVixen. Make her feel welcome." The supervisor's heart hammered in his chest. PixelVixen. 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