---
*Adeline's POV*
The pen trembled in my fingers as I hovered over the dotted line. The contract before me was thick, every page filled with legal terms I barely understood. But I had read it—twice, actually. Derrick had offered me the job, not just any job, but the role of his personal assistant. A position that paid more than I'd earned in a year at the magazine. And after everything—being attacked, losing my apartment, my pride—this was a lifeline.
Derrick sat across from me in his home office, watching with a calm intensity. He was dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing veins and muscles that looked like they belonged to someone in a magazine. His expression, unreadable as always, didn't pressure me, but I still felt the weight of his gaze.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked softly, glancing up.
"I wouldn't offer it if I wasn't," he replied. "You need stability. I need someone I can trust. It's a win-win."
Trust. That word echoed strangely in my chest.
Aria blinked. Once. Twice. Then her smile returned, tighter this time. "Oh. I didn't realize the position was… available."
"It wasn't," he said shortly. "But things change."
Aria turned her gaze on me. "I see. Well, if you need anything, Adeline, don't hesitate to ask. We all take care of each other here." Her tone was syrupy sweet, but her eyes were daggers.
"Thanks," I said, forcing a smile. "That means a lot."
As she walked away, Derrick leaned in and said, "Don't mind her. She thinks she runs the place."
"She doesn't?"
"She runs the calendar. That's it."
I laughed softly, nerves easing just a bit.
---
Derrick emerged from his office shortly after, papers in hand.
"Walk with me," he said, not giving me time to respond before he started toward the elevator.
I grabbed my tablet and followed, heart pounding again. This man had presence—like every room bent subtly around him. Being close to him was a constant push and pull of comfort and intimidation.
He handed me a folder as we entered the elevator. "These are contracts. Just need you to scan and organize them. Ignore the comments."
"The ones about me?"
He looked sideways at me. "You're not here for them. You're here for me. Let them talk."
I wasn't sure if it was the words or the certainty in his tone, but something in me steadied.
We returned to the office an hour later. I sat back at my desk, focused on scanning the documents when Aria came again—this time holding a steaming cup of coffee.
"For you," she said, setting it down.
"Thanks," I said cautiously.
She leaned down slightly, voice lower. "I don't know what you did to get this job, but Derrick doesn't let people in. Ever. Be careful not to ruin what you're clearly not qualified for."
Before I could respond, she was gone again—like a viper that strikes before you see its fangs.
I stared at the coffee for a second… then pushed it aside.
---
By noon, my head was pounding. Not because the job was difficult—yet—but because the air in the office was heavy with unspoken things. Judging eyes, hushed murmurs, and polite smiles that didn't quite reach anyone's eyes. Every move I made seemed to echo louder than it should. Every glance I received came laced with something I couldn't name—was it suspicion, envy… or judgment?
Aria strutted past my desk for the third time in an hour.
"Oh, Adeline," she said, pausing by my door with feigned concern. "You placed the monthly reports in the green folder, right? Not the red. Mr. Browns prefers green. You know—symbol of progress."
I blinked at her, glancing at the folders I'd sorted earlier. "He didn't specify, but I'll switch them out."
"Oh, don't worry," she smiled, leaning closer. "We all make mistakes in the beginning."
She walked away before I could respond, her heels clicking sharply across the marble floor like a warning shot.
I let out a breath. One part of me wanted to snap. Another just wanted to survive the day.
That evening, after most staff had gone, Derrick reappeared. "First day wasn't easy."
"No," I admitted. "But I've been through worse."
He looked at me for a long moment. "You'll last longer than most. I can already tell."
And somehow, that made the noise fade.
---
I took my place beside Derrick at the long table. Aria sat opposite, her expression unreadable.
As Derrick introduced the pitch, he turned to me. "Adeline will walk us through the projections."
The room went still.
I stood slowly, heart pounding, and walked to the screen. I clicked through the slides, explaining each segment with steady clarity. My voice barely shook. I didn't allow it.
Silence followed as I finished. Then came the murmurs.
A senior consultant cleared his throat. "This was... surprisingly thorough. Well done."
Aria , however, leaned forward with a cold smile. "Actually, I noticed an inconsistency in the Q3 data."
My stomach dropped. I glanced at the screen. I hadn't made any—
Derrick cut her off.
"It's correct. I reviewed it myself."
Aria blinked.
"She's right," he added, voice clipped. "Next question?"
The room shifted. Whispers fell away.
I looked at him, stunned, but he was already flipping to the next page of notes like nothing had happened.
Later, back at my desk, aria passed me again—this time silent, stiff. Her power had cracked, and she knew it.
But it wasn't about power. Not for me.
It was about holding on.
And for the first time, I wasn't doing it alone.
The next morning started differently.
Derrick had left a file on my desk—thicker than the rest, clipped with a note in his strong, angular handwriting:
*"Prepare the figures. We present this afternoon."*
My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to breathe. I wasn't new to pressure, but this—this was a different kind. It wasn't about proving myself to the world anymore. It was about proving something to me. That I could survive, even here. Even after everything.
I buried myself in the numbers, charts, and logistics. For a moment, I forgot about the whispers, the looks, even aria's constant pacing. I barely noticed when she passed by my desk again.
"Hope you're not getting too confident," she said with a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Mr. Browns is a perfectionist. He doesn't tolerate errors."
"I'll keep that in mind," I replied flatly, refusing to bite.
She scoffed, clearly unsatisfied with my lack of reaction.
Hours later, the staff gathered in the sleek glass conference room. The tension in the air was sharp—like a storm was about to break.
Thankfully it went well , "well that was a good start " I thought to myself.
---
By 6 PM, I had finally slipped off my heels, thinking the day was over. I was reviewing Derrick's calendar for tomorrow when his voice broke the quiet:
"Cancel my dinner with Eaton. I've rescheduled."
I looked up from my screen. "Understood, sir."
He walked a few paces, then turned back. "But keep the reservation. You'll come with me."
I blinked. "Sir?"
"I'd like you to attend. Eaton wants a replacement opinion on the project. You've handled it well."
My mouth opened, then shut. "Yes, sir."
***
Two hours later, I found myself seated across from Derrick at a private table tucked into the corner of one of the city's sleekest restaurants. Crystal glasses, soft piano music, and low candlelight—it didn't feel like business.
He studied the menu, completely unfazed. I, however, was hyper-aware of everything—my dress, the curve of his jaw in this lighting, the sheer impossibility of the situation.
"You're tense," he noted without looking up.
"No, I'm just... not used to this."
"This?" he asked, eyes meeting mine.
"This environment. Or dining like this with..." I hesitated. "Someone like you."
A flicker of amusement danced across his expression. "Someone like me?"
"Powerful. Mysterious. Hard to read."
He leaned back, glass of wine in hand. "I suppose you're not used to being seen, either."
I blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Everyone's been trying to break you. But you're still here."
His gaze didn't waver. "They underestimate that."
I looked away, unsure of what to say. No one had ever acknowledged the cracks without trying to widen them.
Dinner arrived—steak for him, something lighter for me. We spoke about the Eaton project, about strategy, and numbers. But there were moments—quiet ones—where his voice softened, where the walls between boss and assistant thinned.
" So how are you holding up?" He asked , " I mean considering your old job and all "
I looked at him.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I think I'm still figuring it out."
We left the restaurant past 10 PM. As we stood outside, Derrick turned to me. "There's danger in being close to power, Adeline. But more danger in being ignored by it."
I nodded, unsure if it was a warning or a promise.
Then he opened the car door for me. For the first time, I stepped in without hesitation.