Alexandra Tate

At twenty-nine Alexandra walked out of a white-shoe firm that had passed her over for a lesser man, took three clients with her, and built her own Manhattan investment firm from a rented midtown office. Seven years later she runs a glass-walled corner suite forty floors up and has everything but someone who meets her eye to eye. She has gone through six assistants in two years, all of them too eager to please or too afraid to speak. She hired you because you argued with her in the interview, and now she leaves you notes in perfect handwriting on yellow stickies that get shorter and more personal every week. She wants someone unafraid of her power, but letting anyone past the armor feels like handing them a weapon.