Lyla Monroe
The following day, Victoria Ames stood confidently at the front of the boardroom, her sharp heels clicking against the floor as she paced slowly. Her voice echoed across the room with power, control, and elegance.
“We at Ames Global believe this partnership will usher in a new era of tech innovation,” she said. “But only if both parties prove they can keep up.”
I sat in the corner. Always the corner. Quiet. Invisible. Like wallpaper.
Two days of late nights, bad sleep, and back-to-back meetings had taken their toll. I was running on caffeine and sheer willpower. My eyes burned. My hands ached. I had barely slept three hours in the last 48. Still, everything around me looked polished. Organized. Professional.
Because I had made sure of it.
The slides, the timelines, the numbers, the strategy—every little thing in that room, I had touched. I had proofread. I had perfected.
Maybe I deserve a pat on the back, I thought. Just a small one. Just to keep going.
Then Luca spoke.
“This partnership will combine cutting-edge infrastructure from Steele Enterprises with the innovative software systems from Ames Global,” he said. “Together, we’re looking at a projected 40% market expansion over the next fiscal year. Our teams are ready. Our model is strong. All we need now is your vote of confidence.”
He looked confident—calm, crisp suit, perfectly combed hair, piercing gray eyes. But I could see the tension in his jaw. The weight in his shoulders. This deal meant everything to him.
Then Victoria stopped pacing.
She turned slowly to face Luca, eyes sharp. “And what about the acquisition in Jakarta?” she asked suddenly.
My heart skipped.
Luca blinked.
Victoria folded her arms. “Three years ago, you pulled out of a multimillion-dollar deal overseas without notice. You left their government hanging. It nearly caused a scandal. How do I know you won’t do the same to me?”
The room froze.
I saw it in his eyes. Luca was searching for words. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. And in all the silence, Victoria just stood there, chin raised, waiting.
I looked at the documents on the table. I looked at the charts on the screen. I looked at Luca—my boss. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable. But now… frozen.
I stood up. I didn’t know why. My legs just moved. I could feel my heart pounding, my breath hitching, and that little voice screaming what the hell are you doing, Lyla?! Sit down before he fires you!
But I walked to the front of the room anyway.
“I can answer that,” I said calmly.
Victoria blinked and turned to me. The rest of the room watched in silence.
“I know I’m not part of the executive team,” I continued, steadying my voice, “but I’ve been working closely with Mr. Steele on this project, and I can assure you—this isn’t Jakarta.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“That deal fell apart due to political instability, not lack of commitment,” I said. “Luca—Mr. Steele—chose to protect his shareholders and employees. It was a hard decision, but the right one. This project? This is different. It’s structured, deeply researched, and protected from those same risks.”
Victoria stared at me, lips pressed. Then finally, she nodded once.
“I didn’t see it that way,” she said. “That’s… actually a very good perspective.”
She looked at Luca. “She’s good.”
Then she looked back at me. “What’s your name?”
I swallowed. “Lyla. Lyla Monroe.”
“And you are?”
“I’m his personal assistant,” I said.
Victoria tilted her head. “Well, Ms. Monroe… you deserve a raise. Maybe even a promotion.”
I smiled awkwardly. “Thank you.”
Luca stared at me.
His eyes were wide, puzzled. Not angry, not yet. But… something was shifting. I saw it. Like he was trying to see me for the first time.
Admiration? Confusion? Suspicion?
I didn’t wait to find out. I turned and walked straight back to the corner. I sat down, crossed my legs, folded my hands, and stared down at my notepad like I hadn’t just broken a thousand unspoken rules.
Back to secretary mode.
The meeting resumed. Luca picked up from where I left off. His voice steady again. The room full of nods and approval.
And then—ping.
An email.
From: Carter Kingsley
Tomorrow morning, a car will be waiting.
If you’re not in that car and on a flight to California,
I will come pick you up personally.
Your choice.
—Dad
I sighed, holding back the rush of heat rising in my chest. Rage. Dread. Exhaustion. All of it.
When the room finally emptied, I stood and walked straight to Luca.
He looked at me with a blank expression. His lips parted like he was about to ask what the hell I thought I was doing back there.
But I beat him to it.
“Can I have a few days off?” I asked quickly. “To travel to California.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I have to visit my family,” I said, keeping my voice even.
He leaned back, arms folded. “Can’t you call them? Video chat?”
“It’s important,” I said quietly.
He studied me for a moment longer, then finally said, “Fine. You saved the project today, so you get two days. No more.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He turned away, already gathering papers. “Keep your phone on you. If I need you, I’ll call or text.”
“I will,” I said softly.
“And Lyla…”
“Yes, Mr. Steele.”
“You’re not getting a raise.”
Ah damn it.
