Chapter 2

My first task as an executive assistant was to brew Silas a cup of coffee.

Linda Teller, a veteran from the sales department, handed me a printed sheet. It was a meticulous list detailing everything from the origin of the coffee beans and the roast level to the exact grind size. It even specified the water temperature and brewing time down to the second.

"Mr. Vance has extremely high standards for his coffee," she said, arms crossed with a look that screamed she was waiting for a disaster. "The last few assistants were all fired because of this single cup".

I took the list and headed to the breakroom. These requirements were less like a recipe and more like a formula for a chemistry experiment. No sane person would actually want to drink this.

Just as I was about to start, Silas’s internal monologue echoed in my head.

[Ugh, that ridiculous list has Linda written all over it. She is clearly trying to sabotage my future wife. Honestly, I would drink anything, even instant coffee. Will Jade think I’m impossible to please? Maybe I should go in there and tell her to ignore the instructions? No, I cannot break character; the CEO persona must remain intact.]

I smiled to myself. So, someone was trying to "welcome" me by setting me up to fail.

I meticulously followed every step on the list through to the end. In the final move, with a deliberate "slip" of my hand, I poured in a double serving of espresso concentrate.

When I carried the cup into the office, Silas was preoccupied with a document, his brow furrowed.

"Your coffee, Mr. Vance".

Without looking up, he took a large gulp. A second later, his handsome face contorted in distress.

[Gah! The bitterness! I can’t feel my tongue! Is she actually trying to kill her husband?]

He slammed the cup down, his face turning a stony, ashen gray as he glared at me. I immediately put on my best tearful innocence expression.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Vance... this was my first attempt. Was there a mistake?"

Though he looked ready to explode, his inner feelings revealed a completely different narrative.

[Forget it, forget it. She didn't do it on purpose. It must be Linda's fault for not explaining it properly. My wife brewed this with her own two hands, so even if it's poison, I’m finishing it! Yes… This is how love tastes!]

With a stoic expression, I observed him lift the cup once more and drain the rest of that lethal, hyper-concentrated caffeine in a single gulp.

Setting the cup down, he exhaled a heavy breath and shot me a look that was intended to convey "satisfaction".

"Not bad," he managed to say. "Make it exactly like this from now on".

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "Sure, Mr. Vance".

[Good Lord, why did I say that? Does this mean I have to drink this stuff every morning now? I’ve really dug my own grave this time!]

Looking at his stern face, which was clearly masking deep regret, I felt a wave of absolute triumph.