4.

Monday morning came too fast.

I got dressed in my boring professional outfit, did my makeup carefully, covering the dark circles under my eyes, and pulled my hair back in a neat bun.

I could barely recognise the woman staring back at me in the mirror. She looked like a proper 9-to-5 worker who had her life together.

There was no sight of a girl who had spent the last three days crying in bed over a man who didn’t love her.

Good.

The subway ride to Midtown Manhattan took forty minutes, and I spent the entire time rehearsing what I’d say and how I’d act if I saw Steven. I had to be professional and show nothing that would reveal how badly I was falling apart inside.

Riorson Industries was in a sleek glass building on Fifth Avenue. I'd been here before, for company parties and charity galas when I was Steven's date. But I'd always come through the VIP entrance, not the main lobby.

Now, I was here like any other employee entering the building. I showed the temporary ID Alexander had emailed to me to the security, who let me in, and I took the elevator to the 53^rd floor.

The executive floor.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped into a world of glass, class and luxury. The reception had a clear and breathtaking view of Central Park.

A woman at the front desk looked up and smiled. "You must be Emilia Jones. Alexander is expecting you. I'll let him know you're here."

She made a quick call, and a minute later, Alexander appeared from around the corner.

He was still as I remembered. Alexander was in his mid-forties with kind eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Even in the middle of a crisis, he managed to look approachable and kind.

"Ms Jones. Right on time." He shook my hand. "Welcome to Riorson Industries."

"Thank you."

"Let me show you around."

He led me through the floor, pointing out different departments. Marketing. Finance. Legal. The executive conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The break room with a coffee machine that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

And then we approached a corner office.

Steven's office.

My heart started racing as we neared the door. The door was closed, but I could see him staring at his computer screen through the glass wall. He looked the same as he looked on TV. Exhausted.

Alexander knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

“Mr Riorson, Emilia Jones is here,” he said, walking further into the office. “She will be your new secretary,” he announced like it was not Steven’s prior arrangement.

Steven looked up, and my breath hitched as I waited for something. Recognition, regret, anything, but his expression remained blank, betraying nothing.

“I hope you can be efficient. I don’t like people who slack off, Ms Jones.” He said it bluntly before turning back to his computer, silently dismissing us.

It stung.

I knew it would be like this because this was who he was, and I prepared for it, but it didn’t make it hurt less.

Alexander cleared his throat awkwardly and led me out of the office. He showed me to my desk, which was right outside Steven’s office. It was so close that I could see him through the glass whenever he was at his desk.

Close enough to torture me every single day.

"Your login information is here," Alexander said, handing me a folder. "I'll walk you through the filing system and the calendar management software. Most of it is straightforward, but there are some quirks."

I nodded, trying to focus. Trying not to look at Steven through the glass.

The morning passed in a blur of training. How to answer the phone. How to file correspondence. How to manage Steven's schedule, coordinate meetings, and handle vendors.

It wasn’t as difficult as I thought. I was confident that I would be able to pull it off.

Just before lunch, I was at my desk sorting through a stack of mail when the elevator doors opened.

I looked up out of habit.

And my entire world tilted.

Bianca Lawson stepped out.

She was more beautiful in person than in photos. Tall and slim in a white designer dress that probably cost a fortune. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves down her back, and her makeup was flawless.

She looked like she'd stepped off a magazine cover.

She walked right past my desk without even glancing at me and went straight to Steven's office and opened the door without knocking.

I watched through the glass as she walked up to his desk, leaned down and kissed his cheeks.

I waited for him to pull away, but he didn’t. My hands clenched into fists under my desk.

They talked for a few minutes. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Bianca was smiling, laughing, and touching his arm. Steven's expression was unreadable, but he wasn't telling her to leave.

Alexander appeared next to my desk. He'd been in a meeting for the past hour.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, glancing towards the duo for a brief second.

I hadn’t realised I was staring until he appeared, so I forced myself to tear my gaze from them.

"I’m fine."

"She's been visiting every day since she got back to New York," Alexander said. His voice was gentle. Sympathetic. "She is helping him through the business crisis."

Helping. Right. I guess that was what they called it now.

"What caused the crisis?" I asked. The question had been burning in my mind all weekend.

Alexander hesitated. "There's an investigation into possible sabotage. But I can't say more than that."

Sabotage. Someone had deliberately destroyed Steven's company.

Before I could ask anything else, Steven's office door opened. Bianca walked out, still smiling. She glanced at me this time, and her smile got wider.

"You must be the new secretary," she said. "How lovely."

Her tone made it clear I was anything but lovely. I was beneath her notice. Insignificant.

"Yes," I said. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh no. I know my way around." She leaned in closer, lowering her voice so only I could hear. "But a word of advice? Steven doesn't like clingy employees. Keep it professional."

She straightened and walked to the elevator, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

I sat there, my face burning.

Alexander cleared his throat awkwardly. "Don't let her get to you. Ms Lawson can be... difficult."

That was one word for it.

The rest of the day crawled by. I answered phones, filed documents, and tried not to look at Steven's office. Tried not to think about Bianca's kiss on his cheek. Tried not to wonder if they were together now. Really together.

At six, most of the office started clearing out. Alexander left at six-thirty, telling me I should go home too.

But Steven was still working.

Through the glass, I could see him at his desk. His tie was loose now, his jacket off. He looked exhausted.

I should leave. Go home. Stop torturing myself.

But my feet wouldn't move.

At seven-thirty, Steven's office door opened. He walked out, loosening his tie further.

He looked surprised to see me still at my desk.

"You should go home," he said.

It was the most personal thing he'd said to me all day.

I stood up, gathering my things. "Okay."

I picked up my purse and coat. This was it. My first day was over. I'd survived.

I walked toward the elevator, passing him.

"Emilia."

I stopped. Turned back.

He was looking at me now, and for just a second, I saw something in his eyes. Something that looked almost like regret.

"Yes?" I said, hope rearing its ugly head bit by bit as I waited.

He opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head.

"Nothing. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Riorson." I mumbled, trying not to let the disappointment bleed into my voice.

I got in the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, and the doors started to close.

Steven was still standing there, watching me until the door closed, cutting off my view.

I leaned back against the elevator wall and closed my eyes. One day down. Hundreds more to go.

My phone buzzed in my purse and when I pulled it out, I saw it was a text from Sunny.

How was your first day?

I stared at the message, trying to figure out how to answer. How to explain that it was torture. That seeing him was worse than I'd imagined. That watching Bianca touch him made me want to scream.

Before I could type anything, another text came through.

From a number I didn't recognize.

We need to talk. Meet me tomorrow at Café Moreno at noon. Come alone. This is about Steven.

My heart started racing.

I typed back: Who is this?

Someone who knows what really happened to his company. And why.