MasukTwo years later.
Marilyn Oxford woke up to soft sunlight filtering through the curtains of her small apartment. Today was her first official day at Stewart Global Resorts, the company she had dreamed of joining ever since her sophomore year in college. Her heart beat faster as she climbed out of bed. She moved through her morning routine quickly. After a quick shower, she dried her long red hair and pinned it up neatly. Then she slipped on her favorite blonde wig, adjusting it until it fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She loved the way the blonde looked. It made her feel polished and confident. Most people at work would never guess her natural hair color, and she preferred it that way. She chose a simple but professional outfit: a fitted white blouse, a knee-length navy pencil skirt, and low black heels. Nothing too flashy, but enough to show she belonged in a luxury hospitality company. She added light makeup, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door. The headquarters of Stewart Global Resorts rose tall and gleaming in the city skyline. Marilyn stood outside for a moment, staring up at the glass building. This was it. The place she had worked so hard to reach. A smile touched her lips as she walked through the revolving doors. Inside, the lobby felt like a five-star resort itself, with marble floors, fresh flowers, and soft classical music playing in the background. She checked in at the security desk, received her employee badge, and took the elevator to the executive floor on the twenty-eighth level. When the doors opened, a woman in her early thirties with a warm smile greeted her right away. “Marilyn Oxford? I’m Claire, one of the coordinators on the Guest Experience team. Welcome to the executive floor. You’re early. That’s a good sign.” Claire led her down a wide, brightly lit hallway lined with sleek offices. “You’re lucky they posted you straight up here,” Claire said as they walked. “They only send the sharpest new graduates to this level because Mr. Stewart likes fresh ideas from people who haven’t been stuck in the old ways yet. Most new hires start downstairs in operations for at least a year or two.” Marilyn felt a rush of pride. “Thank you. I’m really excited to be here.” They entered a large open-plan area with several desks. Two men looked up from their computers as Claire introduced her. “This is Tyler,” Claire said, gesturing to a tall man in his late twenties with stylish glasses. “And this is Marcus.” Tyler stood up first, offering a charming smile. “Well, hello. Welcome to the team, Marilyn. You brighten up the floor already.” Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyes lingering a second too long on her face and the blonde waves of her wig. “Yeah, definitely. If you need help finding anything, or if you want someone to show you the best lunch spots around here, just say the word. I’d be happy to volunteer.” Marilyn smiled politely. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Tyler winked. “We mean it. Don’t hesitate.” Claire rolled her eyes good-naturedly and steered Marilyn away. “Ignore them. They flirt with every new face. Come on, let me introduce you to your direct supervisor for now.” Her main boss for the orientation period was a no-nonsense woman named Sandra, in her mid-forties. Sandra had short dark hair and a clipboard in her hand. She gave Marilyn a quick once-over and nodded. “Marilyn, right? Good. We don’t have time for long introductions today. You’ll start with basic support tasks while you learn the systems. For the first week, that means helping with coffee runs, delivering documents, and assisting the executive assistants when they need extra hands. Think you can handle that without complaining?” “Yes, ma’am,” Marilyn replied calmly. “I’m ready to learn.” Sandra seemed pleased with the answer. “Good attitude. Follow me.” The morning passed in a blur of activity. Marilyn moved between desks, learning names and procedures. She fetched fresh coffee from the executive pantry, arranged pastries on trays, and delivered them with a pleasant smile. Some staff members were friendly. A few of the younger women complimented her outfit and asked where she got her wig, clearly impressed by how natural it looked. One older gentleman even told her she reminded him of his daughter starting out. But not everyone was welcoming. As she passed a cluster of desks near the windows, she caught low voices. “Did you see the new girl?” one woman whispered. “Blonde, fresh out of college, and they put her up here on day one? It must be nice to have connections.” Another replied, “Or nice legs. Let’s be real.” Marilyn pretended not to hear, but the words stung. She kept her head high and continued her tasks. She had worked too hard to let petty comments derail her. Still, the jealousy was clear. A couple of senior women gave her tight smiles that never reached their eyes and forgot to include her when they ordered lunch for the team. By mid-morning, Sandra handed her a fresh tray. “Take this to Madison, Mr. Stewart’s executive secretary. Her office is at the end of the hall, right outside the CEO’s suite. Be careful with the coffee. It’s hot. And smile. Madison is strict but fair.” Marilyn nodded. “I’ve got it.” She balanced the tray carefully, two steaming cups of coffee, cream and sugar on the side, plus a small plate of fruit. Her heels clicked softly on the polished floor as she walked down the long hallway. Her mind wandered for a moment. This was really happening. Two years ago she had been crying on the sidewalk after catching Simon in the worst possible way. Now she was here, in the building she had pinned on her vision board since college. She felt proud of how far she had come. No more letting men define her worth. No more reckless nights. She was focused, professional, and in control. She turned the corner toward Madison’s desk, still lost in her thoughts. Her eyes were on the tray, making sure nothing spilled. Then she collided with a solid wall of muscle and expensive fabric. Hot coffee splashed across a crisp white shirt and dark suit jacket. The tray wobbled in her hands. Marilyn looked up, horrified. For one heartbeat, her heart stopped breathing. She saw only the man from that wild, tipsy night two years ago. The tall, handsome stranger she had mistaken for the escort her friends had arranged. The powerful body wrapped in nothing but a towel, the intense eyes that had watched her fall apart under his touch. The man who had given her the first real orgasm of her life. Then reality crashed in. This was not some anonymous escort. This was Raymond Stewart. CEO of Stewart Global Resorts. The cold, feared billionaire whose name made executives tremble. Her breath seized. Her stomach dropped. She forced her face into a mask of polite confusion. She pretended she did not recognize him at all. No flicker of memory. No widening of eyes. Just the embarrassed expression of a brand-new employee who had made a terrible mistake on her first day. Gasps rippled through the open executive area. Madison rushed forward, already speaking. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Mr. Stewart. She’s brand new, still in training. I’ll handle this right away.” Marilyn kept her voice steady even though her heart hammered wildly. “I’m so sorry, sir. It was completely my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Raymond said nothing. He simply looked at her for one long, charged second, his ice-blue eyes narrowing with clear recognition. Then his expression turned to stone. He turned and walked away without a word, coffee still dripping from his ruined shirt. Marilyn stood frozen, the empty tray shaking slightly in her hands. Her perfect first day had just collided with the one night she had tried so hard to forget. And now the man she had walked away from with five hundred dollars and a careless note was her boss.The days that followed became harder than Marilyn expected. Raymond was still there, and that was the problem. If he had travelled again, if he had stayed away from the penthouse, perhaps she could have convinced herself that the distance between them was only because of work. But he was there every morning. Every evening. And every night. And still, he felt far away. At breakfast, Raymond sat across from her with his tablet. “Did Grace send the update about your mother?” “Yes.” “How is she?” “Better now.” “Good.” That was usually where the conversation ended. No teasing. No smile that belonged only to her. And no casual hand reaching across the table. No “love.” Just Marilyn. Always Marilyn. At the office, it was the same, Raymond remained professional. He called her when he needed something, and gave her instructions. He asked for reports. Sometimes their eyes met for a second longer than necessary, and Marilyn would feel hope rise inside her. Then Raymond looked away.
Marilyn noticed changes in Raymond that evening. He came home late. Normally, even when he returned exhausted, the first thing he did was to find her and kiss her. A hand around her waist. And a quiet, “Where have you been, love?” Sometimes he would barely enter the living room before pulling her close. That night, he walked past her with just: “Good evening, Marilyn.” Marilyn stared at him. “Good evening.” Raymond removed his jacket. And the next person he asked was Elizabeth. “How is your mother?” “She’s fine too.” Marilyn replied. “Good.” And that was it. No kisses. No touch. No Nothing. Marilyn stood beside the sofa, watching him walk upstairs. She wanted to believe he was tired. But the next morning proved otherwise. Raymond was already at the breakfast table when she came downstairs. “Morning,” Marilyn said. He looked up. “Good morning, Marilyn.” Again. Just Marilyn. She sat across from him. Raymond continued reading something on his tablet. Marilyn waited fo
Raymond slept on that information and wasn't comfortable. The next morning, his car stopped in front of Ashford International Tower in Landmark City. Daniel glanced at him through the mirror. “Should I wait here, sir?” “Yes.” Raymond stepped out before Daniel could say anything else. He had spent most of the night thinking about Marilyn’s words. About Victor, Isabella, and Richard Hale. He still believed Victor was wrong. But belief was no longer enough. And that irritated him more than anything. Victor’s assistant looked surprised when Raymond walked into the executive floor without an appointment. “Mr. Stewart.” “I’m here to see Victor.” “Mr. Ashford is in a meeting.” “End it.” The woman hesitated. Raymond looked at her. She immediately reached for the phone. A few minutes later, Victor’s office door opened. Victor stood behind his desk, watching Raymond enter. “Well.” Raymond closed the door behind him. Victor smiled. “I didn’t think I would ever see the day Raymon
Marilyn spent most of the following day waiting for Raymond. He had sent only one message that morning. ‘I’ll be home tonight.’ And nothing else. No love, no teasing. No promise about showing her how much he had missed her. Marilyn read the message several times. Something was definitely wrong. By evening, she was already at the Triplex Penthouse. She changed out of her office clothes and waited in the living room. When the private elevator finally opened, Marilyn stood immediately. Raymond stepped out of it. Her heart jumped at the sight of him. For two days, she had imagined this moment. She had imagined running into his arms, his hands around her waist, his kiss, and the way he would tease her for admitting that she missed him. Instead, Raymond walked toward her and stopped. “Hi.” Marilyn’s smile weakened. “Hi.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. And that was all. Marilyn stared at him. Raymond removed his jacket. “How is your mother?” “She’s fine.” “Good.” He
Marilyn returned to Stewart Crown Resorts with Victor’s words still running through her mind. She tried to work. She really did, but every few minutes, her thoughts returned to the same thing. Isabella Stewart might be alive. It sounded impossible. Marilyn stared at the document on her computer without understanding a single sentence. Victor admitted that he could be wrong. He had no photograph, no video, nothing she could actually show Raymond. Only what he claimed to have seen her. And that was what frightened her most. If Victor had come to her with proof, perhaps the decision would have been easier. But how could she call Raymond and tell him that his dead wife might still be alive based only on the words of the man he hated most? Marilyn leaned back in her chair. Maybe she should tell Madison. Then she immediately rejected the thought. Madison had encouraged her to meet Victor because she believed he wanted help making peace with Raymond. She had no idea the conversati
Tuesday morning, Marilyn had already changed her mind about meeting Victor Ashford several times. One moment, she believed it was better to cancel. And the next, curiosity returned. What could the man possibly want to tell her that was so important? She had almost sent him a message early that morning telling him she would not be coming. But each time she tried, Madison’s words returned to her mind. Listening did not mean trusting. That was what finally convinced her. At exactly noon, Marilyn left Stewart Crown Resorts and headed toward the location Victor had sent her. It was a quiet restaurant inside one of the most respected hotels in the city. The place was public enough to make her comfortable, but private enough for people to have conversations without everyone listening. Marilyn stepped inside and looked around. A waiter approached immediately. “Miss Oxford?” She stopped. “Yes.” “Mr. Ashford is expecting you.” Marilyn followed him toward a table near the large window
Merilyn was just out of the elevator. She looked around the ground floor and regrets filled her eyes. Her carelessness has caught up with her. Her career is gone. What was she going to tell her mother now? She walked forward, thinking. Her mother had wanted this career for her. She had worked ha
Marilyn walked back toward her department with heavy steps. The hallway felt longer than it had that morning. When she reached the open area, the atmosphere had completely changed. Heads turned in her direction. Whispers spread quickly across the floor. Even people from other departments seemed to
Raymond Stewart strode into his private office without a word, the hot coffee still soaking through his white shirt and suit jacket. He did not bother to look down at the damage. The ruined clothes meant nothing. His mind was fixed on one thing only: the woman who had just collided with him in the
The worst day of Marilyn Oxford’s life began on her twenty-first birthday. She had walked into her boyfriend, Simon Hayes’s apartment carrying a small gift bag and wearing black lace lingerie beneath her clothes. She had spent weeks imagining this moment. Tonight, she had planned to give him her vi







