bChapter /bb125 /b

    Olivia

    Alice had the decency to look embarrassed. “Nothing. Just… you know how people talk.”

    My stomach clenched. “What are people saying?”

    The three exchanged nces.

    “Nothing specific,” Vivian said carefully. “Just the usual office gossip when someone gets a big promotion soon after bmarrying /b

    the CEO.”

    “I’ve been working my ass off for so long.” I reminded them, anger simmering beneath my professional facade. “I’ve stayedte,e in on weekends, and delivered results consistently.”

    b“/bWe know that,” Nova assured me quickly. “And anyone who’s worked with you knows it too. Don’t mind the jealous assholes.”

    As if on cue, there was another knock, and Jessica appeared with my new security badge and office keys.

    “Mrs. Carter, here are your credentials,” she said, handing me a sleek leather folder. “HR has scheduled an orientation session

    at 11 AM to review your new system esses and responsibilities. Is there anything else you need?”

    “No, thank you, Jessica.”

    After she left, my friends stared at me in awe.

    “Mrs. Carter,” Nova repeated, mimicking Jessica’s deferential tone. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

    “Tell me about it,” I muttered.

    Alice checked her watch. “We should get back to work.”

    “Right. And we should let you settle in,” Vivian added.

    They filed out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my imposing new office.

    Throughout the morning, a steady stream of colleagues stopped by to congratte me. Some seemed genuinely happy for my bsess/b, while others wore thinly veiled expressions of suspicion or resentment. During a trip to the break room, I overheard a snippet of conversation that made my blood boil.

    “-sleeping with the boss for what, a few months? And now she’s Senior Strategist with a corner office-”

    “Not quite a corner office,” another voice corrected, “but yeah, talk about a fast track-”

    They fell silent as I rounded the corner, their fake smiles not reaching their eyes.

    “Congrattions on the promotion,” one of them said from Digital Marketing, I recognized.

    “Thank you,” I replied coolly, grabbing a water bottle and leaving without another word.

    By the time lunch rolled around, I’d endured several HR orientation sessions, signed a stack of paperwork, and received no fewer than fifteen “congrattory” emails that felt more likeworking attempts than sincere good wishes.

    I was sorting through files when there was yet another knock.

    PD

    b7:58 /bbpm /bP

    “Come in,” I called, expecting more colleagues with thinly disguised curiosity.

    Instead, it was Michelle rk, the Marketing Director, my new direct supervisor.

    “Mrs. Carter,” she greeted me with a warm smile. “How are you settling in?”

    “Still finding my feet,” I admitted, standing to shake her hand.

    “That’s to be expected.” She took a seat across from my desk. “I wanted to personally wee you to the executive team. Your work on the Westwood campaign was exceptional.”

    “Thank you. That means a loting from you.”

    Michelle had been something of a role model to me since I joined Carter Enterprises. She’d worked her way up through the ranks over fifteen years, breaking through the ss ceiling with sheer talent and determination.

    “I’ll be honest,” she continued, “there was some pushback about your promotion. Not because of your abilities, your work speaks for itself, but because of your connection to Alexander Carter.”

    I tensed. “I understand.”

    “I defended the decision,” she said firmly. “Even before you married Alexander Carter, you bwere /bon my shortlist for advancement. This just… elerated the timeline.”

    Relief washed over me. “I appreciate your support. And I won’t let

    you

    down.”

    “I know you won’t.” She smiled. “That’s why I’ve decided to put you in charge of the Thompson Hotels rebranding project.”

    My eyes widened. “The Thompson ount? But that’s a multi–million dor client.”

    “Precisely. It’s high–profile, challenging, and exactly the kind of project that will silence any doubters.” She handed me a thick folder. “The brief is in here. We present initial concepts in three weeks.”

    “Thank you for this opportunity,” I said, feeling genuine excitement. This was the kind of project I’d dreamed of leading. “Don’t thank me yet,” she warned with a wry smile. “The pressure is on. People will be watching closely, hoping you’ll fail.” “I won’t fail,” I promised, my jaw set with determination.

    After Michelle left, I dove into the Thompson Hotels brief, losing myself in the creative challenge. The project was substantial, rebranding an entire hotel chain to appeal to younger, tech–savvy travelers while maintaining their reputation for luxury. It was exactly the kind ofplex, multifaceted campaign I excelled at.

    I spent the next three hours poring over their current marketing materials,petitor analyses, and target demographic information. The hotel chain had a solid reputation for old–world luxury but was losing ground to sleeker, more tech- focusedpetitors. They needed a refresh that honored their heritage while pushing them firmly into the digital age.

    I was sketching initial concept ideas when a soft knock interrupted my concentration.

    “Come in,” I called,– not looking up from my notepad.

    The door opened to reveal a young man with carefully styled dark hair and designer bsses/b, holding a tablet and what appeared to be an organizational nner.

    “Mrs. Carter?” he asked hesitantly. “I’m Dn Park, your assistant.”

    b7:58 /bbpm /b

    PDD

    I blinked in surprise. “I thought you weren’t starting until tomorrow.”

    “HR pushed up my start date,” he smiled nervously. “They said you might need help getting settled in

    “Oh.” I set down my pen. “Well,e in, Dn. I wasn’t exactly prepared for an assistant today”

    He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. “I understand. If it helps, I’ve been working in the marketing department for about a year, mostly supporting the creative team.”

    “And now you’re stuck with me,” I said with a small smile.

    “Half–stuck,” he corrected. “I’ll be with you in the mornings and with Mr. Williams in the Creative in the afternoons.”

    I gestured for him to take a seat. “Tell me about yourself, Dn.”

    He sat, tablet perched on hisp. “I graduated from UCLA two years ago with a degree in marketing. I interned at a small agency beforending a position here. I’m organized, detail–oriented, and I make excellent coffee.”

    “The coffee part might be your most valuable skill,” I joked.

    Heughed, visibly rxing. “I’ve already been briefed on your promotion and the Thompson Hotels project. I’ve pulled their financial reports for thest five years andpiled a list of their previous marketing campaigns.”

    I raised my eyebrows, impressed. “That’s incredibly proactive.”

    “I try to anticipate needs,” he said with a modest shrug. “Would you like me to email you the files?”

    “Yes, please.”

    biAD /i/b

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