His Bias, My Leap

The day I finally secured an investment worth over 20 million dollars, I walked into the office and immediately caught sight of that calculating assistant wearing a smug look as she spread gossip around.

According to her, my husband, the CEO, was planning to strip me of my position and exile me to some forgotten branch in Northreach.

Contract in hand, I headed straight for the CEO's office. I stood behind my husband and rubbed his temples while joking casually, "You won't believe what I just heard. Apparently, you're sending me off to a branch office. If only they knew we've been married in secret for seven years and are about to make it public."

He didn't look surprised at all. He gently pushed my hand away and smiled.

"It's not a rumor. Andrea messed up the last project, and the board is breathing down my neck. They want someone sent to Northreach, and they picked her. That place is brutal. She wouldn't survive it. She's not like you. She doesn't have the luxury of failure. If she goes there, her career is finished. She was my junior back in school. I can't let her life fall apart."

He paused, then added softly, "Once you come back, I'll announce our marriage. And I'll make sure you get what you've always wanted. A child."

I smiled, but it held no warmth. I turned around and walked out without another word. Before I reached the elevator, I made a call to his biggest competitor.

"Looking for a vice president? I'm bringing 20 million dollars of funding with me. I only ask for one thing: Don't send me to Northreach."

There was a short silence on the line, followed by a small chuckle and a sigh.

"Are you serious? I'd give you the world. How could I ever let you suffer through wind and sand out there?"

I was long past being impressed by this kind of polished flattery. I cut straight to business.

"So when can I start?"

"Anytime. Who's trying to banish you to Northreach? Quinton would never sign off on it. Didn't he just talk about going public with you after you helped Andrea clean up her disaster a few days ago?"

I sidestepped the question and replied evenly, "Just be ready to take over the 20-million-dollar investment."

After ending the call, I logged into the company system and submitted my resignation.

Then I returned to my office, grabbed a cardboard box, and began packing my things.

I hadn't shut the door. Colleagues kept sneaking glances from their desks, curiosity written all over their faces. A few bold ones even came over, eager to gossip.

"Ms. Woolery, I heard Northreach is hell on earth. A colleague came back from there once looking half-dead and skinny as a rail, and her skin was so rough it could scrape paint. You've been with Mr. Kemp for seven years. Can't you at least ask him to go easy on you?"

"She obviously rubbed