Choosing the billionaire

IZZY.

I glanced at my watch and growled a curse. 8:57 AM. I was running late. Again.

As the taxi came skidding to a stop in front of Winston & Co Firms, where I worked as a junior marketing associate, I quickly pushed crumpled bills into the driver's hand.

"Keep the change," I muttered, shoving the door open with my shoulder as I cradled a pile of files in my arms.

The driver hardly grunted in response as he sped off.

I clutched the files tightly and made a dash for the revolving doors, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Once inside, I made a beeline for the closest elevator—one that was just closing.

My heart racing, I yelled, "Wait! Hold the elevator!”

Its lone passenger, a suit-clad man who was tall, looked my way over his phone. For a millisecond, I believed he would hit the button. Instead, his eyes darted back to his screen and the doors closed.

I breathed harshly, fighting down a curse. Jerk.

Muttering to myself, I turned and sprinted to a different elevator, stabbing impatiently at the button. The doors slid open a few seconds later, and I dashed inside, breathing heavily.

My heart had returned to normal by the time I arrived at the fifth floor, but my nerves were still on edge. I sprinted along the corridor and burst into the meeting room door.

A dozen pairs of eyes darted to me, but the one that mattered was Richard Mallory's, my boss. He was at the head of the table, his piercing blue eyes narrowing at me. Beside him, Hannah Brooks, a senior executive, twirled a strand of her sleek blonde hair, her lips curling into a sneer when she saw me.

"You're late," Richard said, his voice expressionless.

My mouth opened to clarify, but he was already forging ahead, addressing the CEO.

Hannah, naturally, did not let it go so easily. She strode over, her designer heels clacking on the floor. "I presume you completed the report I requested?" she said, her voice oozing condescension.

I nodded, pretending to have a neutral expression. "Yes. I compiled the data and included a comparison of the market."

I handed over the neatly organized file. Hannah flipped through it, barely reading the contents, then shut it with a nod of approval. "Good. Hope you didn't mess anything up."

She did not say anything else before she turned and walked towards a chair near the CEO, positioning herself closer to the top crop.

I took a deep breath and sat down, forcing the annoyance simmering within me to the side.

The meeting started. Richard and the CEO took the lead in discussing their new campaign, running through figures and projections. I was listening carefully, making notes, until the CEO asked the room directly:

"What's the projected engagement rate for the secondary market?"

Before I could answer—because I had done that data—Hannah sat up straight and spoke with ease.

"We're looking at a 12% increase in the next quarter," she said, opening the file I gave her. "I went ahead and reworked the initial projections and suggested a tighter strategy to maximize reach."

I clenched my teeth. That was my work.

Hannah went on, reading directly out of the exact same material that I had worked so hard to put together—word for word—as if it was her own.

The CEO nodded in approval. "Good job, Hannah."

Hannah glowed, lapping up the praise while I bit my cheek so hard I nearly drew blood.

It wasn't the first time Hannah had taken credit for my ideas, and it was far from likely to be the last.

The meeting adjourned soon after, and as the group stood to leave, Hannah swept back around, her too-sweet smile spread across her face.

"Would you be a dear and drop those files on my desk, darling?" she requested before spinning on her heel and heading towards Richard and the CEO, who were waiting to speak with her.

I let out a slow, measured breath, making myself not scream. Instead, I gathered up the files and trudged back to my tiny cubicle, steeling myself for another painful day.

---

When 6:00 PM rolled around, I was spent.

I stepped out of the taxi in front of my building, my body aching with exhaustion. I climbed the stairs, unlocking the door, kicking off my shoes as I stepped in.

I poured myself a glass of water, drinking greedily, but then—

A sound.

A groan.

My stomach clenched. I put down the glass, horror churning in my belly. The noise was coming from my bedroom.

I stepped closer, my heart pounding in my chest.

I turned the door handle, and what I saw made my blood run cold.

Seb.

My boyfriend of four years. In bed with another girl.

The world stood still for a second.

Then Seb sat up straight as his eyes met mine, clutching at the sheets. "Izzy, wait—"

I let out a silent, harsh, humorless laugh, my chest numb.

"Get. Out." My own voice was strangely calm.

The woman—whoever she was—dragged on some clothes and lurched toward the door. Seb hesitated, as though he was trying to think of something, but I didn't give him the chance.

"Now."

Seb exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'll speak to you later, okay? We need to talk—"

The door slammed shut in his face before he could say anything else.

I stood there, glaring at the shut door, breathing in hitched gasps.

I collapsed on the floor, hugging my knees.

What am I doing with my life?

Everything around me seemed to be collapsing—my career, my relationship, my whole future.

My phone vibrated, breaking my trance.

I glanced at the screen. Richard Mallory.

I paused for a moment, unsure if I should ignore it, and then I sighed and took the call.

"Izzy, you have to go to a work function tonight." No preamble, nothing.

I blinked. "What? Tonight?"

"Yes. I won't be able to make it, and someone has to cover for the team."

I let out a sharp breath, digging my fingers into my temples. "Richard, I just got home, I—"

"Hannah's…well, busy," he interrupted. "So you're going."

And then—click.

The line went dead.

I gazed at the screen in shock.

I placed my phone down slowly, breathing out a shaky breath.

I swear to God, I need a new job.

But there was no time to think about that now.

Gulping down the scream that was building in my throat, I pulled myself up from the floor and headed to my bedroom.

I had no choice. Time to get ready.