CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ava's pov

They welcomed me with polite smiles and firm handshakes… 

Completely unaware they had just hired their worst mistake.

A faint curve tugged at my lips. 

Parker Group.

Built from my sweat, pain, and tears, all in the name of love. My fingers clenched.

My mind dragged me back to the times I overdid it for Desmond. I put my career on pause and focused on his. Believing he would see me eventually.

But all of it… was for nothing.

The last time I was connected to this place, I died. This time I walked in willingly. But as Morgana Andrews not Ava Johnson or the Thorne heiress.

A faint smile touched my lips.

The office buzzed as I stepped in, heads tilted softly, whispers followed, “the new designer.”

My ears shut at the sound of the murmurs. 

“This way please,” a young man gestured to a desk. 

Mathias.

Desmond’s secretary. 

My steps slowed for a fraction of a second.

He had been good to me and honestly, it’s nice to see him again. 

My heels echoed on the marble floor, and the chair screeched as I pulled it out.

Before I could sit…

“Well, well, well” the voice cut through the room, I paused, “Who do we have here?” Grace asked.

A sharp breath slipped through my nose.

“Remind me of your name,” she said.

“Morgana Andrews,” my voice steady.

Her steps echoed around me, and her eyes glanced at me from head to toe. Then her lips parted gently. “Why don’t you fetch us some coffee?”

“Coffee?” I repeated the words.

“As a newbie” she added.

“Ma’am she is the new…” Mathias' words died in his mouth.

“What was that for?” I flared back.

She brushed off her hand like she held onto dust from a while ago.

“Are you going?” her brows lifted “or do you need him to take more slaps for you?” 

“Sure” I replied, my gaze on him.

He nodded.

Outside the office, the air felt heavier. I breathed slowly as I walked out but when I returned, I came back to a silence that didn't go to the office.

My eyes swept across the room. The faces told me enough.

“Here is your coffee”

I held the cup steady, extending it across the table.

Her gaze flicked past me, to the papers beneath.

Silence stretched for a moment. 

Then her fingers shifted.

The cup tilted, coffee spilled, and then…a dark stain spread across the designs.

Silence snapped through the room.

“You ruined them,” she said sharply. 

“What?” I blinked 

“I, I don’t… the words couldn’t find their way out. I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

“You spilled coffee on the designs for tomorrow's presentation,” she continued, “everyone saw it.”

My eyes flickered through the room.

“She did that on purpose.”

Not a single soul backed me up.

A quiet sound slipped out of me. “Wow,” I continued, “ “you're such a good actress.”

I brought my hands together slowly, the sound deliberate in the silence. “Impressive,” I said.

“You have now until tomorrow to replace it, newbie” she smirked “or aren't you a designer?” she asked.

I actually do not need this job but it wouldn't cost me anything to show a few skills.

A grin pulled at my lips.

“Fine, I will fix it better than this trash.” My lips parted slightly.

“Trash?” she repeated the words as though I was lying.

I nodded.

“Only the famous SG can pull this,” her gaze fell on me, “except… You want to tell me you're her.”

Silence stretched between us, long enough until a slight cough slipped out of Mathias.

“Enough already,” he said. “Can you pull this off?” his eyes met mine.

“Yes” I responded 

“Good, give it your best shot.” 

Hours later, the voices faded into whispers, then into silence. The sketchbook lay open in front of me, pencil in hand, laptop glowing softly on the desk.

“A piece of cake,” I muttered.

One design blurred into the next, lines and corrections.  When I finally glanced up, the darkness had deepened.

Still, I dragged the pencil across the page then reached for another sheet without thinking.

By the time I finished, it was already morning.

A slight tap on my shoulders woke me up. 

“Sorry,” he said, “it's morning already.”

I jerked up, “shit.” 

“Could you give the designs to the boss yourself?” I continued, “ I have to get home before the presentation.”

“Of course,” his hands reached for the designs.

My chair scraped loudly against the floor as I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door.

Before the elevator door opened, a voice stopped me.

“Where are you going?” I paused.

A deep breath followed and my lips parted slightly “home.” 

She shook her head “Not anymore Morgana” she continued, “My husband is here already.”

“And?” I questioned.

“You're the presenter and…” 

“Wait, what?” I didn't let her finish 

“I look like a mess Grace” my voice snapped. 

"I'm sure he would love to see you this way,” the corners of her lips twitched.

I clenched my fist and her heels whispered across the marble floors. 

I smirked,

If only you knew, you wouldn't let me near Desmond Parker.

Inside the boardroom, every partner sat quietly, waiting for him.

Desmond Parker.

I sat in the chair across from him, eyes locked.

He blinked then I looked away.

“Shall we begin,” he said.

The projector flickered to life.

“The concept is built around market repositioning,” I said, voice steady as the first design filled the screen.

A few pens moved, pages turned.

I clicked to the next slide,

“Luxury branding fails when it tries to speak to everyone,” I continued, “this doesn't.”

A board member leaned forward, but the murmurs that usually followed the presentation never came.

The next slide came, and I let it sit on the screen. 

When I reached the final design, the back row had stopped moving.

A chair creaked somewhere to my left, my eyes locked on the screen and then on him.

By the time I finished, I let the silence linger.

A few moments later, heads nodded as their hands clamped together.

I let a faint smile touch my lips, then my gaze fell on Grace. 

Her jaw tightened.

“This… is beautiful” a man said, his head tilting towards Desmond.

Soon the last of them stood, chairs scraping against the floor as the room began to empty.

Voices faded into the hallway.

I stacked each sheet carefully, smoothing the edges before lifting it.

“Miss Andrews,” his voice stopped me just as I reached for my bag.

I tilted my head.

The chair scraped softly as he stood, a file was in his grasp before crossing the distance as he placed it on the table between us.

“A contract” he said.

Of course.

My eyes scanned the terms thoroughly. Exactly what I expected from a man like him.

Perfect. 

My name is a scrawl behind his name.

Morgana Andrews.

I closed the file and slid it back to him. For a second, our fingers almost brushed. 

“Morgana Andrews” he said, his voice firm.

He stepped back a bit, eyes still on my name. Then he shifted his attention towards me, “Have we… crossed paths before?”

My gaze didn't break, “No,” I said, as I swallowed hard.

“Then why do you feel so familiar?”