The private elevator doors slid open on the top floor of Matthew Group, and for the first time in history, Hart Matthew wasn't storming out in a rage.
He stepped out calmly, adjusting his cufflinks, with Eunice walking just a step behind him. The trip back from Dubai had been… different. They had sat next to each other. They had talked. Hart had even let her sleep on his shoulder for the last hour of the flight without complaining.
"I will need the finalized report on my desk by 2:00 PM," Hart said, but his tone lacked its usual bite. He paused at his office door and looked back at her. "And Eunice?"
Eunice stopped, clutching her tablet. "Yes, sir?"
"Go home at 5:00 PM today," Hart said quietly. "You look tired. Rest."
Eunice felt a warmth bloom in her chest. "Thank you, Hart. I—"
She stopped.
Sitting on the edge of Hart's massive mahogany desk, swinging a pair of perfectly manicured legs, was a woman.
She was stunning. She wore a white designer dress that cost more than Eunice's entire life savings. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of blonde waves, and her smile was dazzling—and completely fake.
"Hart!" the woman squealed, hopping off the desk and rushing toward him.
Before Eunice could blink, the woman had thrown her arms around Hart's neck, burying her face in his chest.
"You're back! I've been waiting for hours."
Hart stiffened. He didn't hug her back, but he didn't push her away either. He looked over the woman's head, his eyes meeting Eunice's shocked gaze.
"Vanessa," Hart said, his voice flat. "What are you doing here?"
Vanessa pulled back, pouting playfully. She smoothed the lapels of his suit jacket with a possessive familiarity.
"I missed my fiancé, silly," she cooed. "Grandma said you were in Dubai. Why didn't you take me? You know I love shopping there."
Fiancé?
The word hit Eunice like a physical slap. She took a stumble back, her hand flying to her stomach. Hart was engaged? He hadn't mentioned a fiancé during their late-night talks. He hadn't mentioned her.
Vanessa finally turned her gaze to Eunice. Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes turned cold and assessing. She looked Eunice up and down—from her sensible work shoes to her slightly messy bun—and dismissed her instantly.
"Oh," Vanessa laughed lightly, a sound like breaking glass. "Is this the new secretary? She looks… quaint."
"She is my Lead Analyst," Hart corrected sharply, stepping away from Vanessa's grasp. "Her name is Miss Vance."
"Analyst, secretary, whatever," Vanessa waved a hand dismissively. She turned to Eunice, her voice dripping with sickly sweet poison. "Be a dear and get me an iced latte? Soy milk, two pumps of vanilla. And make it quick, Hart and I have private matters to discuss."
Eunice stood frozen. The disrespect was palpable. But it was the "private matters" part that hurt the most.
She looked at Hart, waiting for him to defend her. Waiting for him to say 'She is not a servant.'
But Hart was looking at Vanessa, his jaw clenched, clearly annoyed but not making a scene. He was tolerating her.
"Go, Eunice," Hart said, not meeting her eyes. "Give us a moment."
He didn't defend her. He sent her away.
Eunice felt a stinging sensation behind her eyes. The warmth from the elevator evaporated, replaced by the cold reality of her position. She was just an employee. Vanessa was the fiancée.
"Of course, sir," Eunice whispered. "Right away, Miss Vanessa."
She turned and walked out of the office as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn't go to the break room for coffee. She went straight to the women's restroom, locked herself in the furthest stall, and sank to the floor.
She pressed her hands over her ears, but she could still hear Vanessa's high-pitched laughter echoing down the hallway.
"Stupid," Eunice hissed to herself, tears hot on her cheeks. "You are so stupid. He cooked you a sandwich, and you thought he cared? He's a billionaire. You're just the pregnant girl he's forced to work with."
Inside the office, Hart pulled his arm away from Vanessa's grip roughly.
"I am not your fiancé, Vanessa," he growled. "We broke up two years ago."
"But Grandma says we're perfect together," Vanessa smiled, unbothered, sitting back on his desk. "And besides… who else is there? That little mouse you just sent away?"
Hart narrowed his eyes. "Leave her out of this."
"Touchy," Vanessa smirked. "Careful, Hart. People might think you actually like the help."