Chapter 21- The promotion Twist

The first Monday after returning to William’s mansion felt heavier than usual. The walls were quiet, the staff polite but distant, and William? He hadn’t spoken to me since the day he declared the room was ours. We hadn’t even shared breakfast.

I woke up to the sound of soft knocks on the door.

"Ma’am, Mr. William has asked you to be ready by 9:30. There’s an important announcement at the company," the caretaker said as she opened the curtains.

I frowned. What kind of announcement needed me to be there, especially after being fired and rehired under such strange terms?

Still, I got ready in a plain white blouse and black pencil skirt—nothing fancy, just enough to look formal. My stomach churned all the way to the office. I wasn’t ready for any drama.

As I entered the building, familiar faces glanced at me with mixed reactions—some surprise, some pity. I avoided eye contact. I didn’t have the energy to explain anything.

In the conference hall, chairs were already filled. Natasha stood near the podium, smiling like a peacock ready to flaunt its feathers. When she saw me, her smile faltered for a brief moment before she quickly recovered.

"Lily! You made it!" she said brightly, walking toward me. "William asked me to inform you about your new position."

I blinked. "What new position?"

She leaned in and whispered, "You got the promotion. You're the new secretary to the CEO."

Secretary?

Not the position I applied for. Not the manager post I had worked my life for.

Before I could protest, William entered. His eyes barely glanced at me as he walked past.

Natasha clapped. "Let’s all congratulate Lily for her new role. I personally told William she deserved a second chance."

What was this? A favor? I clenched my jaw.

After the meeting, I followed William back to his office.

"Sir, can I speak with you?"

He nodded without looking up. "Go on."

"Why this role? I deserved the managerial post. I worked for it."

He finally looked up. "You were fired. This is what you get when you come back."

"Then why bring me back at all?"

He stood and walked to the window. "Because I knew you wouldn't sit still. Because I wanted to see how far you’d go for your place here. This company doesn't reward broken spirits. It rewards persistence."

Was that a compliment or an insult?

"I didn’t come back to play games, sir. I came to work."

He looked over his shoulder. "Then work. Prove yourself again."

I walked out, half-fuming, half-confused. Why did I feel like a pawn in some twisted chess game?

Back at my new desk, I started sorting files and organizing his calendar. That’s when I noticed a folder marked "Confidential." It was partially open, and curiosity got the best of me.

Inside were emails. Ones I didn’t recognize. Subject lines: Project Override, Anonymous Complaint, Payment Completed.

I froze.

My fingers trembled as I clicked one open.

Someone had sent instructions to delete files from my old project. And the name signed at the bottom?

Not William.

Someone else entirely.

My heart raced. This wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

—

By mid-week, the job had turned into a series of personal errands disguised as office work.

"Go collect the audit reports from the finance department, make sure they're printed, signed, and delivered—personally," William said without lifting his eyes.

I did, but when I returned—sweaty, breathless, and holding a stack of paper—he casually said, "Oh, I’ve already received them by email. But it’s good exercise."

He smirked. SMIRKED.

The next day, he sent me to the warehouse in heels to check on inventory.

"Why me, sir?" I asked, trying to hide my annoyance.

"Because I trust your eyes more than theirs," he replied in his most sincere voice.

Oh, the nerve.

By Thursday, I had memorized every floor of the office building. From delivering files to the top floor just to be told to return them to the basement, to being asked to count the number of chairs in the boardroom. Yes, that happened.

“Ma’am,” a young intern whispered one afternoon, “why is the CEO always sending you to carry water bottles to the conference room?”

I had no idea. Apparently, I was the new multi-tasking queen of meaningless errands.

But perhaps the worst part wasn’t William’s strange delight in my misery—it was Samantha.

She worked in HR and clearly didn’t like me.

“Back again?” she said every time I entered her department. “Looks like someone’s playing favorites.”

Her sarcasm stung. I started noticing how she and a few others exchanged glances whenever I passed by. A coffee mug once mysteriously disappeared from my desk, and later, my entire desk arrangement had been swapped with someone else's.

On Friday, I overheard Samantha speaking to another employee in the break room.

“She thinks she’s back in the game, but she’s only being humored. She won’t last two weeks.”

I held my breath behind the door.

Samantha clearly saw me as competition—or maybe just an easy target.

Later that evening, as I was filing last-minute reports in the supply room, William walked in.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his voice calm.

I didn’t look up. “Someone had to finish the work. The files don’t organize themselves.”

He leaned against the doorway. “I like people who work late. It shows desperation—or dedication. Hard to tell these days.”

I set the file down a little too hard. “Is this another test?”

He tilted his head. “You’re sensitive today.”

I turned to face him. “Maybe because I’ve been playing messenger girl all week while Samantha runs a whisper campaign against me.”

His expression remained unreadable. “Do you want me to interfere?”

“No,” I said firmly. “If I’m going to survive this, I’ll do it on my own.”

A ghost of a smirk passed his lips before he turned and left.

That night, I sat on the edge of my bed, exhausted. I had blisters from all the walking, and my dignity was hanging by a thread. But my will?

Stronger than ever.

I wasn’t done fighting. Not yet.

For now, I just whispered in my mind, As if you were ever loyal.

But never to his face. Not yet.