Chapter 5: Promoted to his secretary

Wren set her fork down slowly, buying herself a few seconds.

She opened her mouth to say something, but didn't find the words, so she closed it again, then forced a small smile.

"Just a colleague," she said. "He was heading this way and offered me a ride. I didn't want to wait in the rain."

"But you said you took another cab," Marcus said.

Wren swallowed hard, then smiled again.

"Yeah, before my colleague picked me up, the cab broke down, so the driver was getting it fixed. Then I saw my colleague, and he drove me home," Wren replied.

Marcus studied her for a moment. Then he smiled, picking his fork back up.

"Nice of him."

"Yeah," Wren said, her voice quiet. She looked down at her plate. She'd lost her appetite.

Marcus didn't ask anything else.

But his expression had changed, like he knew she was lying.

The rest of dinner passed in a strange quiet.

Wren barely tasted anything after that.

When she finally climbed into bed that night, sleep didn't come easily. Her mind kept remembering the look on Marcus's face, and Theo's voice in the car.

She stared at the ceiling, replaying the phrase.

I still love you.

Over and over again.

The next morning, Wren got to Harborline and walked down the hallway toward her office.

"Wren! Wren!" Priya shouted, running after her.

Wren turned to look at her. "What's with the chase?"

Priya stopped, hands on her knees, breathing hard, trying to catch her breath.

"You... you got—" she managed.

"I got what?" Wren asked.

"You got promoted," Priya finished.

"What do you mean?"

"I overheard Mr. Dawson talking to someone. They said the CEO promoted you to secretary of Ashford Dynamics." Priya smiled. "I'm really happy for you, Wren."

Wren scoffed. "He really meant it," she said, almost to herself.

"What is it, Wren?" Priya asked.

"Nothing." Wren smiled. "It's okay. Thanks."

"You don't seem happy."

"Happy? I'm—" Wren was cut off by Mr. Dawson.

"Wren! You're leaving now." He came rushing down the hallway, flipping through a pile of papers without looking up, still walking. "The CEO sent a car to pick you up."

"Why?" Wren asked.

He looked up. "He appointed you as his secretary. Suddenly. Don't ask me why, I don't know." He waved a hand toward the exit. "Go. The car's waiting."

Wren hesitated.

"Go!" Dawson shouted.

"Text me if anything happens, okay?" Priya said, still smiling.

Wren nodded with an odd smile, then turned and walked toward the exit.

Outside, a red car was parked with Cole standing in front of it, waiting.

"Ma'am!" Cole called, raising a hand for her to come over.

Wren rolled her eyes and walked toward the car.

Cole opened the back door for her, and she got in. He started the engine.

The silence in the car stretched long, Cole in front, driving, Wren in the back.

Then Cole spoke. "The CEO seems to like you a lot. That's unusual for him." He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "What's your connection with him?"

Wren didn't answer right away.

"There's no connection between us," she said, shifting her gaze to the window.

"I'd say that's a lie." He paused. "By any chance, are you the lady he's been writing letters to for the past fifteen years?"

Wren went quiet, staring at him in surprise.

"Did he really write letters?" she asked.

Cole glanced at the mirror again. "So you are the one. The lady he says he misses." He paused. "The CEO wrote a lot of letters to you."

"Why didn't he send them?" Wren asked. "Why did he keep them?"

Cole was quiet for a moment.

"Why? Tell me," she pressed.

"Something happened. Years ago, when he was in college. Something with his father." He met her eyes in the mirror again. "I don't know the full story. He's never told me all of it. But whatever it is, he's carried it a long time."

Wren sat back, processing. "His father," she repeated quietly, almost to herself. She remembered Elliot Ashford vaguely. Polished, distant, a very hard man. He'd hated her, and she'd never liked him either, even as a teenager.

"I thought he never wrote letters. Now that you've told me this, I don't know what to do with it," she said.

"You don't have to do anything with it," Cole said. "I probably shouldn't have said as much as I did." He caught her eye in the mirror again, his tone softening. "Just go easy on him. He's not as put-together as he looks."

Wren almost laughed. "He looks pretty put-together to me."

"That's the point," Cole said. "He's good at looking like nothing gets to him. Doesn't mean nothing does."

She turned to the window, watching the streets pass.

Then Ashford Dynamics headquarters came into view. An entire tower, its face made almost entirely of glass.

"We're here," Cole said, pulling up to the entrance.

Wren looked up at the building, her heart beginning to race, her courage fizzling out, her hands starting to shake.

Cole came around and opened her door. "Ready?"

"Not really," Wren admitted.

He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "You'll be fine. Come on."

Wren got out of the car and followed Cole into the building.

He led her through the glass doors and into the lobby.

"The CEO?" Cole asked the receptionist.

"In a meeting with the board of directors, sir," she replied sharply.

They walked straight to the elevator and stepped in.

"Where are we going?" Wren asked.

"To meet the CEO," Cole said. His phone rang.

"The secretary's here with me, sir," he said into the phone. "Okay, sir." He ended the call and straightened, watching the numbers climb.

"Who was that?" Wren asked.

"The CEO."

"What did he ask you?"

Cole looked at her. "Can you stop with the questions?"

Wren let out a heavy breath and nodded.

"Thank you," Cole said, shifting his eyes back to the numbers.

They rode up in silence.

Finally, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

"Boardroom's this way," Cole said, gesturing down a long hallway lined with frosted glass. "Heads up, it's not just the CEO in there."

"What do you mean?"

Before he could answer, he pushed open a set of double doors, and Wren stepped into a room full of people who all turned to look at her at once.

Wren's heart skipped, then began pounding so loudly she could hear it. Her fingers were vibrating like they were about to leave her entirely, and an unexplained cold swept through her body.

Theo stood near the head of the table, mid-sentence, and stopped the moment he saw her.

Isabelle sat near him, her expression shifting the instant she registered who had walked in.

Beside Isabelle sat an older man. Richard Whitfield, Isabelle's father. White-haired, in an ash-gray suit, watching Wren with open curiosity.

And at the far end of the table, unmistakable even after fifteen years, sat Elliot Ashford.