~ Clara’s POV ~
A jolt of pure surprise, quickly followed by a rush of adrenaline-fueled panic, shot through me when I found Miss Evelyn in my art studio.
But the true shock was the realization that she had almost uncovered my secret.
Thankfully, I had come in right on time, just before her hand could pull away the covers.
What would she think if she had seen that canvas?
The thought alone sent cold goosebumps prickling all over my body.
My heart pounded rapidly against my ribs.
“I didn’t know you were coming, Miss Evelyn. Is there anything you want me to do?” I asked, my voice a little too high-pitched, as I instinctively moved and stood directly in front of the covered canvas, deliberately blocking her view.
My actions were clearly suspicious, and her exquisitely carved eyebrow arched.
She looked at me, her eyes unreadable, obviously expecting me to move away or offer an immediate explanation.
But I stubbornly did neither.
I didn’t know where I found such courage, but the desperate need to protect this one secret was stronger than my fear.
With her hands clasped elegantly behind her back, she shifted her attention and moved away from the covered canvas, eventually stopping in front of the piece I was currently working on.
“I see you’ve started your task,” she said curtly, her voice losing its earlier, subtle edge of curiosity.
Her cold boardroom persona was back.
I wondered if my defensive reaction had offended her.
“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” I replied instantly, hoping my tone conveyed both diligence and apology.
“I hope it’s up to my satisfaction,” she continued, turning to look at me, her gaze piercing.
“Otherwise, you’d have to redo it. That would make it two paintings in a week.”
I felt myself inwardly panic at her statement.
I prided myself on my talent as an artist; my awards and recognition from university were a testament to that.
But now, hearing her words, the pressure ratcheted up exponentially.
Miss Evelyn was particular, eccentric, and a profound art enthusiast.
The quality of the artwork I’d seen throughout her mansion proved that.
To give her a subpar rendition would not just be disappointing; it would be damning.
“I hope you understood what I said,” she pressed, her voice unwavering.
“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” I nodded, trying desperately to keep my voice neutral, to not give away the fact that my heart was drumming louder than a startled bird, and my palms felt clammy against my skin.
“Good.” With that, she turned and started walking toward the exit.
“Don’t be late for dinner, Clara,” she commanded, her voice trailing behind her as the door clicked shut.
I let out a huge sigh of relief as soon as I was alone.
“That was close,” I whispered, my knees feeling weak.
My first priority was to safeguard my secret.
I quickly carried the incriminating canvas, carefully placing it between other innocuous pieces in the darkest corner of the studio.
I hoped this would prevent her from discovering it if she decided to come here again in my absence.
Dinner time came and went smoothly.
And like always, Miss Evelyn said next to nothing to me before retiring for the day.
It had been over two weeks since I started working at Vance Corp.
Two weeks of intentionally doing my absolute best, pushing myself to keep up with the relentless demands of being an assistant to the country’s most powerful CEO, while still finding the energy to paint at night.
That part, at least, had been a success; Miss Evelyn had already accepted two of my completed pieces for her collection.
The professional experience was challenging, but in a good way.
It was exciting—especially when compared to the mind-numbing, suffocating three years I had spent married to Julian.
But despite my small successes, I still battled a constant feeling of inadequacy.
This insidious doubt wasn’t helped by the snide comments, the whispers, and the pointed looks from some of the staffs.
A patronizing smile from one, a dismissive glance from another….each micro-aggression chipped away at my fragile confidence.
I felt increasingly isolated and anxious, especially during lunch breaks.
Today, it finally boiled over.
I was in the cafeteria when a woman from marketing “accidentally” bumped right into me, sending her hot coffee splashing all over my blouse.
The cafeteria wasn’t crowded, and there was plenty of room to pass, which made her excuse completely unbelievable.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there,” she mumbled, her tone completely empty of any real apology.
“You really should watch where you’re going,” her friend added in a loud, passive-aggressive whisper.
“What a pity about the dress.”
My face burned with humiliation.
The lump in my throat was so thick I couldn’t even force out a reply.
I hurried back to the executive floor, desperate to wash out the dark stain before Miss the Evelyn could see me.
But luck wasn’t on my side.
The moment I stepped off the elevator, there she was, perfectly composed, saying goodbye to a business guest.
Her eyes immediately locked onto the ugly, wet stain on my white blouse.
I stood frozen, mortified, as she stared at me.
Her face was a blank, terrifying mask.
She didn’t say a word to me in front of her guest.
“Let’s touch base tomorrow,” Evelyn told the woman, escorting her to the private lift.
The moment the elevator doors closed and the guest was out of earshot, she turned on her heel.
“Come to my office. Now.”
I followed her inside, my heart sinking straight into my stomach.
“What happened to you?” she demanded the moment the door shut.
I flinched slightly—a tiny, instinctive movement, but she caught it.
Her expression hardened, a dangerous, cold glint entering her eyes.
“Are you being bullied, Clara?” she asked.
Her voice was low and perfectly even, yet the entire atmosphere in the room seemed to drop by ten degrees.
“No, Miss Evelyn,” I lied immediately, the words catching in my throat.
I felt a sharp pang of guilt, but I couldn’t tell her the truth.
How could I admit that I was being ganged up on by her own employees?
These people had been here for years; they knew how the corporate world worked.
Telling on them would only make me look weak, incapable, and like an easy target.
“Then what is that on your top?” she pressed, pointing a finger directly at the coffee stain.
“I… I wasn’t paying attention,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I bumped into someone in the cafeteria, and her cup spilled.”
“You bumped into someone,” Evelyn repeated, her eyes narrowing as she studied me.
She stared at me in silence for a long, agonizing minute.
Then, without another word, she stood up from her desk.
My chest tightened as I watched her walk toward the dark wood paneling on the far side of her office.
She pressed a hidden release, and a seamless door popped open with a quiet click, sliding back to reveal a hidden room.
“Follow me,” she ordered.
I hesitated for a second before following her inside.
The hidden suite was vast, looking more like a luxury penthouse than an office attachment.
It had its own plush seating, a minimalist kitchen, and a private wardrobe.
“Change into this,” Evelyn said, cutting through my shock as she pulled a fresh, folded dark-gray suit from a rack and handed it to me.
I stared at the expensive fabric, overwhelmed by her sudden, quiet gesture.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper.
The rest of the afternoon passed rather quickly, and for once, I was grateful for the heavy workload.
It kept my mind off the hot coffee that had ruined my white blazer.
At least I would get to eat dinner back at the estate.
Before she retired to her quarters for the evening, she handed me a small, matte-black flash drive.
“Review the file on this and make sure the data and information are correct. I’ll need it ready for the morning briefing.”
I stared at the drive in my palm, a little confused.
This was usually Lydia’s responsibility.
But I didn’t question it.
I just nodded and headed back to my room.
I ate dinner alone—a quiet plate of carbonara—while Mise Evelyn took an urgent late-night conference call in her study.
Afterward, I sat at my desk, meticulously reviewed and proofread the slides on the drive.
Once the work was done, I spent an hour in the art studio, letting the strokes of my paintbrush quiet my racing thoughts before finally going to bed.
The next morning, I was walking down the hallway toward the executive conference room, a stack of printed agendas balanced in my hands.
Just as I reached the double doors, a sudden force slammed into my shoulder.
“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry!” Joy—one of the senior marketing analysts gasped, her voice dripping with fake concern as the papers flew out of my hands, scattering across the floor.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, my cheeks burning as I knelt down to gather the loose sheets.
“You dropped this, too,” Joy added.
She held out the black flash drive, a sweet, unbothered smile on her face.
“Oh. Thank you,” I said, letting out a breath of relief as I took it back and slipped it into my pocket. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
If I had walked into that meeting without the drive, Miss Evelyn would have had my head.
I shook the nervous thought from my mind, trying to ignore the cold, uneasy feeling settling deep in my stomach as Joy turned and walked away.
The conference room fell into an expectant silence the moment Miss Evelyn walked in, flanked by Francis and the COO.
Lydia gave me a brief nod, and I quickly moved to the front of the room, plugging my laptop into the projector cable.
My desktop background—a vibrant, colorful landscape I’d painted sprang onto the large screen.
A few quiet murmurs rippled through the executives, but I was too nervous to look at their faces.
With nervous hands, I plugged in the black flash drive and opened the file explorer.
I scrolled down.
Then I scrolled down again.
The folder I had meticulously organized and named “Staff Meeting” was completely gone.
My breath caught.
I unplugged the drive, wiped the port, and plugged it back in, my fingers shaking so badly I almost dropped it.
Nothing.
The drive was completely empty.
A cold sweat broke out across my forehead, and my heart began to hammer violently against my ribs.
“What is the matter, Clara?” Evelyn’s voice cut through the quiet room, clear and sharp.
“I… I can’t seem to find the folder with the presentation files,” I whispered, my voice barely carrying across the room.
“But that is the drive I gave you last night, isn’t it?” she asked, folding her arms.
“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” I managed to say.
Every single person at the table was staring at me now.
I felt the heat rising to my face, the absolute center of everyone’s attention.
Miss Evelyn didn’t say a word.
She just sat there, her gaze slowly scanning the faces of the staff around the table.
The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, for what felt like an eternity.
“Come back and take your seat, Clara,” she finally ordered, her tone entirely neutral.
My movements were clumsy as I unplugged my laptop and scurried back to my seat behind her, my head bowed so low I could only stare at my shoes.
I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
The meeting proceeded without the projected slides.
The executives spoke, numbers were thrown around, and decisions were made, but it was all a a mirage to me.
I couldn’t absorb a single word.
I just sat there, swallowed by a deep shame, desperately trying to figure out how I could have made such a disastrous mistake.
The rest of the day was a nightmare.
The weight of my failure hung over me so heavily that I couldn’t even bring myself to touch a paintbrush that evening.
The next morning, I purposely skipped breakfast, hiding in my room until I was sure Miss Evelyn had already left for the office.
I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.
Strangely, she didn’t say a word to me about the incident.
She didn’t scold me, she didn’t demand an explanation, and she didn’t mention my absence at breakfast.
But her absolute silence was far more terrifying than any reprimand.
Three days later, a notification popped up on the company’s internal forum.
All-staff meeting in the main briefing room in ten minutes.
I frowned, staring at the screen.
According to the company guidelines Lydia had given me, general staff meetings only happened once a month.
This was completely unscheduled.
Is this about the lost files?
I thought, a fresh wave of anxiety hitting my stomach.
With a quiet sigh, I grabbed my notepad and stood up.
When the time came, Lydia and I followed Miss Evelyn into the packed briefing room.
Lydia went straight to the front, connecting her own laptop to the projector.
But instead of a financial spreadsheet, the screen flickered to show a grainy, black-and-white video feed.
It was security footage from the hallway outside the executive suite, dated in the morning of her three days ago.
I leaned forward, my brow furrowing as I watched.
On the screen, a figure was walking toward my desk while I was away.
I looked over at Evelyn.
She was leaning back in her chair, a cold, dangerous smirk playing on her lips and a sudden shiver ran straight down my spine.
Why?
was the only thought in my mind as I turned my eyes back to the screen, watching the footage unfold.