After Calling Me Old Crow, He Fell Hard

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back.

The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage.

I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?"

He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?"

Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname."

It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him.

I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked.

"Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."

The Old Crow

The first time I really heard the words "old crow" was during the company's Monday morning meeting.

Sadie Laurent kept her eyes down as I scolded her, a teardrop glistening at the corner of her lashes. And during the short break, someone muttered under their breath, "She really is an old crow—always picking on the young and pretty ones."

For a moment, my thoughts froze.

That single line stirred up a storm. Whispers rippled across the room, each one sharper than the last.

"She's just throwing her weight around—bossing people for no reason."

"Thirty-two, and still clinging to an eight-year relationship that's going nowhere. Talk about persistent."

I set my cup down, and the room went dead silent. Countless eyes turned to me, as if I were the one who'd done something wrong.

Sadie dabbed her reddened eyes with a tissue. "Ms. Stone, I'll double-check the data again."

"Not double-check—redoing," I said, forcing my voice to stay cold despite the sting in my chest. "Before tomorrow's morning briefing, I want a precise analysis report and a recovery plan on my desk."

At that, I swept my gaze over her, then the rest of the room. "Meeting adjourned."

I stood and walked out first. Behind me, the murmurs rose again like a rising tide—this time, louder and bolder.

"Pompous bitch. She's only got that director's seat because of Mr. Pryor."

"The old crow's on a rampage again. Guess menopause came early."

Back in my office, my computer pinged with a new internal email. The subject line read in bold. 'Suggestions for Improving Management Communication and Supporting Employee Mental Health'

It was sent from the HR director, but I knew whose hand was really behind it. Sadie's tears, once again, carried more weight than my performance report ever could.

I let out a bitter laugh and closed the page. Then Jace Pryor's extension rang through. His voice was calm, lazy—almost soothing. "Elara, you sure lost your