Semua Bab Assistant to Mr. Whitmore: Bab 1 - Bab 8

It hurts to see the love of your life marrying someone else. It hurts even more when that someone is your best friend.My life has always felt… different. Like I didn’t quite belong among the people around me. I know that probably doesn’t make sense, but it’s the truth. Everything I have, every opportunity, every comfort, it was given to me. I never felt like I earned any of it.You see, I’ve been fortunate, yes, but only because of my father. My father has spent his entire life serving the Whitmore family as their butler. Loyal, devoted, invisible. And in return for his loyalty, the Whitmore family showed me kindness. They got me into the same elite private school their children attended. I did manage to earn a scholarship early on, but let’s be honest, I only got through the doors because of Mr. Whitmore.At that school, I wasn’t bullied. I couldn’t be, not when I was remotely associated with Whitmore. But that didn’t mean I was accepted, either. Most of the time, I was just ignored

The day dragged on at an agonizingly slow pace. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get anything right. My mind was elsewhere, and my work showed it. I was convinced I’d end the day with the scolding of a lifetime from Lucian, but somehow, miraculously, it never came.He was busier than usual, which may have been my saving grace. Still, I could feel the shift in the room every time I slipped up. Melissa and Steven had to gently correct me more than once during the meeting, especially when I fumbled the client’s name. I could barely look up, dreading the inevitable moment when Lucian would publicly call me out for being so off my game.But he didn’t.He didn’t say a word.He just stared.Leaning back in his chair, one fist resting lightly against his mouth, his eyes locked onto the screen as we reviewed the final draft of the presentation. Every time he pointed out an error, of which there were many, he followed it with a hard, unreadable look in my direction. Not quite a gl

There was a flicker of awkwardness when our eyes met, an uncertain pause, the weight of unspoken things hanging between us, but it vanished almost instantly when Noah’s face broke into a broad smile. He crossed the room in two strides and wrapped me in a warm hug.“Oh, I missed you so much, Elara,” he murmured against my hair, his voice slightly muffled.I hadn’t expected that, not from him, not after everything. For a split second, I stood stiffly in his arms, caught off guard. But then that familiar scent hit me. The same cologne he used to wear. The way his arms always folded around me, like they remembered. And just like that, the hesitation melted. I hugged him back, my hands resting lightly on his back.“I missed you, too, Noah,” I whispered as we pulled apart.He kept his hands on my shoulders, eyes scanning my face with a softness I hadn’t seen in a long time. “How have you been?” I asked, my voice almost too quiet.It was a simple question, but it carried a silent weight… I k

“No,” I said flatly, without so much as a second thought, after Noah, currently lounging in my office and refusing to let me work, pitched what might be the worst idea I’d heard all day.Noah let out an amused chuckle. “Come on, Elara. It’s not going to be a disaster like last time.”The way his voice lilted with mischief made it clear he was recalling exactly how bad “last time” went. I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on the screen, fingers tapping out a not-so-urgent email just to avoid engaging.Bored of being ignored, Noah clicked his tongue and slammed my laptop shut mid-sentence. I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut in quickly, grinning. “Come on, Elara. Please? It’s just a badminton match. What’s the worst that could happen?”I shot him a sharp look. He blinked and quickly backtracked. “Okay, okay… I get it.” He scratched the back of his neck, feigning sheepishness. “Last time you played, you got… a little overzealous.”I raised an eyebrow.He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You