Andrea stepped out of the house adjusting her bag, fully prepared to walk to the bus stop… until a sleek black car rolled up in front of her.
The window slid down.
There he was.
Mr.Adrian Valtor.
In a crisp morning suit, hand on the steering wheel, sunglasses hiding what she knew were judgmental eyes.
"You're late," he said.
She blinked. "For what?"
"For work."
Pause.
"You're joining the company today."
"I didn't even say yes yet!"
"You will," he replied calmly. "Get in."
"NO—"
The door unlocked automatically.
She glared.
He raised a brow.
It was the kind of eyebrow that said: Lose this battle gracefully, Andrea.
And of course, she got in.
The interior was pure luxury — leather seats, soft lighting, and a very faint fragrance that smelled unfairly expensive.
As soon as she buckled up, he glanced at her — quick, sideways — like he was forcing himself not to stare too long.
"You're nervous," he noted.
"No, I'm annoyed."
"Same thing, in your case."
She kicked the floor mat. "Stop psychoanalysing me."
He smirked. "Then stop being easy to read."
Andrea looked out the window, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but her heart was beating like it had a personal grudge against her ribs.
He drove smoothly — too smoothly.
Like he'd done this a thousand times, but somehow made it feel like the ride was only for her.
At a red light, he spoke again:
"You'll work directly under the head designer," he said. "I'll oversee your progress."
She frowned. "Why?"
"Because I want to."
"That's a terrible reason."
"No," he said, voice dipping low. "It's the only reason."
She swallowed hard and looked away again.
And he hid a small, dangerous smile.
The lobby was massive — polished marble, glass walls, employees rushing around in tailored suits.
And the moment Adrian stepped out of the car?
Heads snapped.
People straightened.
Some girls whispered.
One guy almost dropped his coffee.
Then Andrea stepped out behind him.
Every single person stared at her like she was an unscheduled meteor strike.
"Who is she?"
"New intern?"
"No, she came with the boss—"
"WITH THE BOSS?!"
Adrian didn't give them time to gossip.
He simply turned slightly and said:
"Follow me."
Her knees almost buckled.
Not because she was intimidated, but because every employee was staring like she had stolen their tax returns.
He led her to the design department.
Tall.
Perfect makeup.
High heels that could end someone's career.
And yes — painfully obvious crush on the CEO.
Elena's smile was too sweet, too sharp.
"So this is the assistant you personally picked?" she asked, looking Andrea up and down like Andrea was a pen stain.
Andrea smiled politely. "Nice to meet you."
"Mhm."
Elena's smile widened.
"You look… very inexperienced. Cute. But inexperienced."
Andrea blinked.
"That's fine. I'm not here for your approval."
Elena's eye twitched.
Adrian stood there, expression unreadable.
With a tone dipped in fake warmth, Elena said:
"Why don't we start you with the basics? Filing documents, printing designs, making coffee—"
"No," Adrian cut in sharply.
Both women looked at him.
"She'll work on design drafts," he said. "Directly."
Elena froze.
"No beginner starts with drafts."
"She's not a beginner," he said smoothly.
"I've seen her work."
Elena's entire soul combusted for three seconds.it took her 500 documents, 2,586 designs, and a 7593 coffee delivery trips to show her first draft.
"Oh," Elena said with an icy laugh. "So she's… special?"
Andrea opened her mouth to protest, but Adrian replied first:
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
A simple, lethal word.
"No one touches her projects without my review."
Andrea nearly choked. Elena nearly died. Employees within earshot nearly fainted.
Later, when Adrian left for a meeting, Elena leaned over Andrea's desk and whispered:
"Listen, sweetheart. I've worked for this company for five years. He's never brought anyone in personally."
"…Okay?"
"So let me be clear."
Elena's smile sharpened.
"If you think being pretty will keep you here—don't. This place eats little girls like you."
Andrea snorted. "You talk too much for someone whose eyeliner is about to crack."
Elena gasped, offended on a molecular level.
Right then — Adrian's footsteps echoed back into the room.
He had returned early.
Elena straightened immediately.
Andrea sat still.
Adrian looked between them — once, twice — and his gaze locked on Elena.
Cold.
Sharp.
The kind of look that made grown men consider new life choices.
"Elena," he said quietly, "step into my office."
She went pale.
He walked past Andrea and paused — just a fraction — his voice lowering only for her:
"If anyone bothers you," he murmured,
"you tell me."
And he walked away.
Leaving Andrea speechless.
Leaving Elena terrified.
And leaving the entire office buzzing like the biggest scandal of the year had just begun.
After few days,
The conference room was bright, sleek, and way too pristine for the emotional demolition that was about to happen.
Elena stood at the front with her tablet, chin tilted high like she owned the building. She flicked through her presentation with the confidence of someone who rehearsed in her bathroom mirror for three nights straight.
Andrea, meanwhile, sat quietly on the side, hands folded, trying to take up as little space as possible.
And then entered Him.
Adrian Valtor.
CEO.
Walking distraction.
Natural destroyer of female nervous systems.
He dropped into his seat, loosened his cuffs, and said, "Let's begin."
Elena started presenting—big words, complicated sketches, unnecessary flourishes only meant to impress.
Adrian listened.
And listened.
And then… blinked. Slowly. Like his brain was buffering.
"Your lines are… vague," he finally said, trying to choose a non-lethal phrasing.
Elena stuttered. "V–vague? Sir, this style is—"
"It lacks structural intent," he interrupted. "It looks pretty, but it doesn't communicate anything. And I don't approve pretty-for-the-sake-of-pretty."
Elena's jaw dropped.
Andrea's head snapped up.
The room froze like a Windows XP crash.
Then he turned to Andrea.
"Andrea, your drafts."
Just like that. Not a request — a decision.
Andrea hesitated, "I—I didn't prepare a full presentation—"
"It's fine," he said, stepping closer and taking the folder from her hands himself. His fingers brushed hers.
Elena watched this like she'd just witnessed infidelity in real time.
He flipped through Andrea's designs, and his whole demeanor changed — sharp, focused, impressed. Eyes shining like he'd found treasure in a pile of recycling.
"These," he said, tapping the page, "are what this company needs. Clean lines. Message-oriented. Bold. You worked on these alone?"
She nodded lightly.
"Good. Effective. They go to production."
He placed the folder down with a finality that felt like a public execution.
Elena's face?
Red. Veins popping. Rapid blinking. Full villain awakening.
"But—sir—my designs took—"
"Elena," he said calmly, "revisions aren't shameful. But Andrea's work is stronger. Let's prioritize the best result."
Boom.
Explosion.
Nuclear meltdown behind Elena's eyes.
She forced a smile. "Of course, sir."
But Andrea could feel it — that cold, poisonous envy wrapping around her like smoke.
Elena wasn't just upset.
She was threatened.
As the meeting ended, Adrian leaned closer to Andrea and murmured, "Good work. Keep designing like this."
Andrea nodded, unaware that behind her…
Elena was already watching, calculating, and quietly deciding:
"I'm going to ruin you.
The office pantry was usually quiet — just the hum of the coffee machine and people pretending to like green tea.
But today?
Elena stood there like she was hosting a press conference.
Two junior designers walked in, minding their own business. Elena glanced up, lowered her voice just enough to seem like she "didn't want to be overheard," and whispered to her friend Clara:
"I mean… I feel bad for Andrea, honestly."
Boom.
The bait.
Clara blinked. "What do you mean?"
Elena sighed dramatically, like she carried the suffering of the entire company on her perfectly manicured shoulders.
"Well… the CEO." She looked around, then leaned in. "You know how he… gets with the new girls."
Both juniors froze mid-sip.
Clara's eyebrows shot up. "What are you saying?"
"I'm not saying anything," Elena said, which meant she was absolutely saying everything.
"But…" she continued, "it's obvious he favors her. He trashed my designs in front of everyone just to look impressed by hers. And have you noticed how often she's in his office? And how he personally handles her work?"
The juniors exchanged looks.
Elena lowered her voice to a sharp whisper.
"Everyone knows Adrian Hale doesn't get close to anyone unless he wants something in return. Andrea's… naive. She probably thinks he cares. Poor thing doesn't realize she's just a pretty distraction for him."
The juniors gasped.
Clara nodded knowingly.
Elena pretended to regret speaking.
"Don't repeat this," she said gently, which guaranteed it would spread faster than COVID at a concert.
Meanwhile… Andrea walks through the hallway
People suddenly avoid eye contact.
Conversations stop when she enters.
Some girls give her pitying glances.
Some whisper.
Some stare at her like she's a scandal waiting to explode.
Andrea senses something is off, but she doesn't know why.
Cut to Elena again
She smirks, fresh coffee in hand, watching the ripples of her rumor spread through the office like poison in water.
In her head, she thinks:
Let's see how long the CEO's little toy lasts once everyone knows what she's really doing.
Andrea is in the design studio, reviewing fabric samples, when two girls behind her whisper just a little too loudly:
"She must be confident… dating the CEO while working here."
"Dating? Please. He's just playing with her."
Her hand freezes on the swatch.
Her throat tightens.
Her ears burn.
She turns around, but they instantly scatter like pigeons caught stealing fries.
She forces a smile for the rest of the day, but inside?
She's spiraling.
Is this really what people think of me?
Is that why Elena glares at me like she wants to peel my skin?
She pushes through it, finishes her work — but her eyes drop every time someone looks at her for even a second too long.
By lunchtime, the entire design department is buzzing like a beehive dipped in caffeine.
"I heard the CEO handpicked her."
"She gets special treatment."
"She's only here because he wants entertainment."
"She's… his toy."
Elena watches from the corner like the evil queen of Excel sheets, enjoying every reaction Andrea gets.
She even fake-comforts someone:
"I wish people wouldn't gossip… but, well… where there's smoke, there's fire."
Girl, she's the one holding the lighter.
Adrian is walking through the hallway with his assistant Liam when he overhears two managers talking.
"So… the new girl, Andrea. Isn't it risky? I mean, if the CEO gets tired of her—"
Adrian stops.
Mid-step.
The air turns cold enough to freeze lava.
Liam looks at him.
"Sir?"
Adrian's jaw tightens.
"What did they say?"
Liam: oh god oh god oh god we're all gonna die today
He drags both managers into a meeting room with the emotional gentleness of a thunderstorm.
"What rumor?"
They stutter, sweating, trying to explain without dying.
"Sir, it's just… people are saying Miss Andrea is… close to you for… improper reasons."
"And where did this rumor start?"
"T-The lead designer… Elena. I think she—"
Adrian doesn't wait.
He's already moving.
His eyes?
Black.
Cold.
Absolutely murderous.
The kind of expression that ends careers.
Meanwhile, Andrea is in the parking lot, sitting in the car, crying silently
She doesn't sob loudly.
She just sits there,head bowed, breathing shaky.
She mutters:
"Why… why would they say that…? I worked so hard…"
Her phone buzzes.
Adrian: "Where are you?"
She wipes her eyes quickly.
Andrea: "Leaving work."
Adrian: "Wait there."
Andrea: "No it's fine—"
Adrian: "Andrea."
Adrian: "Don't move."
She sighs, sniffling.
He's impossible to argue with.
She walks in confidently, smiling, thinking she's about to charm him.
WRONG.
The moment she enters, Adrian looks up with a smile that is NOT a smile — it's the "I might bury you alive" expression.
"Elena," he says softly. Too softly.
"Yes, sir?" she beams.
"I heard a rumor about Andrea."
His tone could make a demon apologize.
"And I heard it came from you."
Elena freezes.
"No—sir—I didn't—"
"You spread a false, derogatory rumor about an employee under my protection."
"I—I only said—"
"You spoke about me."
He stands up.
Six feet of CEO death aura.
"You used my name to justify your insecurity."
She swallows.
"I didn't—please—"
"From this moment, you are suspended. Full investigation. And if I find one more whisper linked to you…"
He leans forward.
"…I guarantee you won't work in this industry again."
Elena's face turns pale to white.
He storms out of the building, finds her in the car, leaning against the window, eyes red.
He opens the door gently.
"Andrea."
She looks away, embarrassed.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
He sits beside her.
"You heard the rumors."
Silence.
She whispers, voice cracking,
"Is this what everyone thinks? That I—I'm with you because… you're the CEO?"
He reaches out, pushes her hair back, and wipes the last tear on her cheek with his thumb.
"No," he says firmly.
"And anyone who spreads that again will be dealt with."
She gives a weak laugh.
"That sounds like a threat."
"It is."
He cups her face gently.
"You're here because you're talented. Brilliant. Better than people who've been here for years. They're scared of you. That's all."
Andrea sniffles, trying not to melt.
"And if I ever want something from you…"
His voice drops lower.
"I'll ask you directly. I don't play games behind your back."
She blushes furiously.
"Now," he smirks, "let's go home. You've had a long day."