HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 42: Congrats on Your First Week

"I don't want anything but a fair shot," I say firmly. "But I'm not going to use Vincent to get it. I intend to stand on my own two feet."

Lila studies me for a long moment. "I don't know whether to believe you or not, but... I suppose we'll see." She sighs and steps out from behind her desk. "Grab your stuff. Let's find you somewhere to sit."

Hope rises fast in my chest. Am I getting my own desk?

Lila strides out of her office, and I eagerly follow. She heads straight to the cubicle pit, and I can barely contain my excitement. But she stops at the very first cubicle, the one nearest the door.

It's far from the other journalists, but it's closer than I was just a moment ago. I'm not complaining.

"You can work from here," Lila says. "I expect you to check in at my office several times a day. You might think it's busywork, but I need someone to ensure the reporters actually read my messages."

"I understand," I say. "I'll make sure they do."

"Good." Without another word, Lila turns and walks away.

Surprised, I call after her. "Lila!"

She pauses. "What is it?"

"Do I have an assignment?"

"Check your email. I'll send you some leads to track down."

Tracking down leads is real journalistic work! "Thank you, Lila. I'll succeed. You'll see."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." She waves dismissively as she returns to her office.

With her gone, I settle into my cubicle, organizing my papers and setting up email alerts. All around me, journalists are making calls, typing furiously, and tracking down stories – just like I'm about to do!

I wait patiently for an email from Lila. And then I wait some more.

An hour passes, and I start to wonder if she forgot. Not wanting to be a bother, I send a quick, friendly reminder email. Ten minutes later, I see the read receipt. But another hour passes with nothing.

I know she's busy. Giving me a desk was a big enough gesture that I don't want to push for more. But sitting here wasting time feels wrong. They hired me to do a job, and I want to do it.

Before I can decide what to do, the receptionist opens the security door and a delivery man walks in carrying a vase overflowing with flowers. The arrangement is so massive it looks like it's about to burst out of the vase. The delivery man has to crane his neck to see around it.

Heads pop up from cubicles as curiosity spreads. Everyone's wondering who the flowers are for – and why.

I'm just as shocked as everyone else when the delivery man brings them to my cubicle.

For a split second, I think of Sandro, but I quickly push the thought aside. There's no way he would send flowers here, especially when I'm still technically married.

"Thank you," I say to the delivery man, who gives a little salute before heading out.

As I reach for the card, a small crowd gathers around me, Ash included.

"Well? Who are they from?" she asks when I hesitate. I really don't want to share, but she's insistent. "With a display like that, it must be someone important."

I open the card and read:

*Congratulations on your first week back after ten years at home. Your husband, Samuel Samson, CEO.*

He even added "CEO" to the card. What a jerk.

I try to hide the card, but Ash reads it aloud over my shoulder. Whispers break out immediately.

I catch fragments of their conversations, enough to feel my stomach twist.

"How did she get a job here with a gap like that on her resume?"

"Her husband's a CEO, that's how."

"Money talks."

"She's probably not even serious about this job."

Glancing around, I see the resentment in my coworkers' eyes. In just a week, I've gone from being a nobody to the most resented person in the office.

Ash smirk is the worst. "Why don't you just go home, housewife? Leave the real reporting to the professionals."

A few others laugh, backing her up.

Humiliation settles over me. This was Samuel's plan all along. The wording on that card was designed to humiliate me.

"What's going on here?" Lila snaps as she steps out of her office. "Get back to work, all of you!" She claps her hands, and everyone scrambles back to their desks.

Lila eyes the enormous bouquet on my desk and approaches. She reads the card, her expression tightening as she does.

"God," she mutters. "That man either loves you or hates you, writing something like this. Did he think people would read that and like you more?"

I hang my head lower.

Lila tilts her head, scrutinizing me. "Is this job just an excuse for you to get out of the house?"

"No," I say quickly.

Her eyes narrow, skepticism written all over her face.

"Please, Lila," I beg. "Give me a real chance to prove myself. I swear I won't let you down."

She studies me for another moment before letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

"There's a dog fashion show in the downtown park this afternoon," she says. "It's fluff. No one wants it. But if you can make it compelling, maybe I'll consider something more substantial."

"Thank you!" I beam, unable to hide my excitement.

"This isn't exactly a good assignment..." she starts to say.

She doesn't get it. Compared to making coffee, delivering messages, and standing in her office all day, this is a dream come true. Who cares if it's about dog fashion? It sounds adorable!

"Should I take a camera, or is there a photographer assigned?"

Lila still looks at me like I've grown a second head. "I'll get you a camera. I'm not wasting anyone else's time on this."

"I'll make you proud."

"Just do the job," she says, shaking her head as she walks away.

Immediately, I turn to my computer and start researching the dog fashion show. I check out the list of participants, noting the names of the dogs and their owners.

I pause. My coworkers think this assignment is a joke? The dog owners are some of the city's most influential people – including the mayor!

Let them think whatever they want. I've got a dog fashion show to attend and a story to write.

They'll all see what I'm capable of soon enough.