The Promotion

Chapter Eight

Standing in front of my wardrobe, I stared at the rows of clothes as if they might magically decide for me. I flicked through hangers, back and forth, my fingers restless. This wasn't just any morning. This was my first day. After several minutes of indecision, I settled on a long black dress—smart, modest, professional. Nothing too revealing, nothing that could be questioned. I twisted my hair into a neat bun, smoothing flyaways until I looked the part.

Still, the nerves sat heavily at the pit of my stomach.

I didn't know what to expect. A quiet fear lingered at the back of my mind—What if I don't like the job? What if I've made a mistake?

I stepped into the kitchen. Calum was slumped on the couch, eyes fixed on the television. He didn't even glance my way. For a moment, I wondered if he'd forgotten what day it was.

The nerves made it impossible to eat. My stomach churned at the thought of food, so instead I slipped an apple into my bag. Grabbing my keys, I headed for the door, pausing just before leaving.

"I don't know what time I'll finish today," I said softly. "So I'll see you later."

He didn't respond.

I waited a beat longer, hand still on the door handle, when his voice finally broke the silence.

"Good luck, babe," he said quietly. "Hope you have a good first day."

I turned back, surprised, and smiled warmly at him.

"Thank you."

As the door closed behind me, I held onto that small moment. Those were the things that made me stay—the little gestures, the familiarity, the comfort. They allowed me to overlook the arguments, the distance. They were the reason taking a break had never felt like an option.

The drive to work was a blur of nerves. My heart beat erratically against my ribs, my palms slick against the steering wheel. By the time I parked, I felt nauseous.

I stayed in the car a few minutes longer, eyes closed, focusing on my breathing.

You can do this. You'll be fine.

Eventually, I forced myself out. My first instinct was to find Sarah, but when I reached our desk, it was empty. That alone unsettled me—Sarah was never late.

I made my way back to the lobby and sat on one of the sofas near the entrance, pulling out my phone. It rang five times before she answered.

"Hi, Louisa," she said softly.

"Sarah? Where are you? Why aren't you in yet?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice.

"Oh—shit, I forgot to tell you," she sighed.

"Tell me what?"

"When I got home last night, my sister called. Mum fell over—she's in hospital. She broke her leg."

My heart dropped. "Oh my God. Sarah, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she said, though her voice lacked its usual spark. "She's fragile right now. I've taken two weeks off to look after her."

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked immediately. "I can come over—"

"No," she interrupted gently. "You need to focus on your job. We'll FaceTime every day. You'll keep me updated on everything."

Despite everything, I smiled. "Promise you'll call me if you need anything."

"You'll be the first," she said. "Now go. Start your new job. You've got this."

After hanging up, I checked the time. It was nearly time.

The top floor.

Very few people had access to it. Alexander Pierce was notoriously private—so much so that barely anyone knew what he looked like. Soon, I would.