All Chapters of The CEO I Insulted Is Now My Boss : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The "Office" IncidentMonday morning arrived with a soft glow, as sunlight streamed through the curtains, bathing Emma’s room in a warm, honey-colored light. She stretched, a bright smile gracing her face. She still had two hours before work, and as she looked down at the bandage on her ankle, a small, involuntary smile settled on her lips.The door creaked open, and Kristie leaned in, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I haven't seen anyone happy to be injured before—especially not with that grin on your face."Emma stuck her tongue out, chuckling. "I thought you said you finally got that job at the restaurant?""I did, but I work in shifts, so I’m off until tomorrow." Kristie gestured toward the door. "Get dressed. I already made breakfast."Emma nodded quietly, sighing as she traced the edge of the bandage. Memories of Friday flooded back—Jerry kneeling in front of her, the weight of his arms as he carried her. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. *That man is definitely

Emma pushed the front door open, dropped her purse onto the nearest chair, and kicked off her shoes with far more force than necessary. "I'm home," she called out weakly. Before she could take another step, two heads popped out from the kitchen. "Emma?" Luan frowned. "Why do you look like someone stole your lunch?" Kristie narrowed her eyes. "No... she looks worse." Emma waved them off. "I'm fine." The words had barely left her mouth before tears welled in her eyes. "Oh no," Luan groaned dramatically. "She's crying. Someone actually made Emma cry." "I am not crying." A tear slid down her cheek. Luan pointed at it like evidence at a crime scene. "Then what's that?" "...Sweat." Kristie blinked. "From your eyes?" Emma sniffled. "...Maybe." Luan threw her hands into the air. "Who did it? Tell me! I'll trip them down the stairs." "Please don't." Kristie sighed, nudging Luan’s shoulder as she walked up to Emma and guided her to the couch. Emma buried her face in

The massive crystal chandelier suspended from the center of the ceiling pulsed with light, casting brilliant, cascading reflections across the polished marble floors like scattered diamonds. Saturday had arrived at last, the grand foyer of the Whitmore estate transformed into a swirling tapestry of velvet, silk, and hushed conversation. The air hummed with the soft, rhythmic lilt of a string quartet, providing a sophisticated backdrop to the high-society crowd. Emma pushed through the heavy front doors, her breath catching as the sheer opulence of the scene washed over her. It was a world she had only touched briefly in the last month, and yet, standing amidst the sea of designer gowns and tailored suits, she felt every bit the outsider. She clutched her purse, her knuckles white, feeling painfully exposed in her simple black spaghetti-strap dress that stopped just below her knee. Emma searched the crowd, her heart hammering against her ribs, until she finally caught sight of Be

The last of the catering staff had finally cleared out, leaving the Whitmore estate in a heavy, hollow silence. The ballroom, which had been bright and loud just an hour ago, now looked tired. The massive chandelier above felt dimmed, and the scent of lilies and expensive perfume hung stagnant in the air. In the living room, the furniture was disarrayed from the party. Isla, Beth, and Alisha were sitting on the plush sofa, trying to wind down. Isla reached into a designer bag at her feet and pulled out a box. It wasn't the giant, flashy gift she had paraded around on stage for the cameras earlier. This one was small, velvet, and tied with a simple ribbon. "Happy birthday, again," Isla said, her voice smooth and sweet. She handed it to Beth. Beth’s eyes went wide. She had already received a huge gift from Isla during the party, and she hadn't expected another one. She fumbled with the ribbon, her face lighting up with excitement. "Isla! You already gave me that huge box earlier; y

The Blackwell Gala was loud and crowded. The ballroom was massive, filled with dim lights, expensive wine, and people in suits talking about money. Emma stood near the edge, her black silk dress feeling a little too light and the high slit feeling a little too bold. She had a thing for slit dresses—at least half of her closet featured them—but she wasn't used to wearing them to high-profile events. Jerry was nearby, surrounded by investors. He looked powerful, but his attention wasn't on the deals. He kept looking over at her, his eyes tracking her every move. The man could probably walk into a room full of fireworks and still find someone to discuss business with. Emma sighed. "You're sighing again," he commented, walking casually toward her. The black suit he wore fit perfectly around his tall, broad frame. She looked at him, clearing her throat. "I wasn't." "You were." "I was breathing." Jerry gave her a skeptical look. "Very dramatically." Emma rolled her eyes wit