The Billionaire's Secret Midnight Obsession

"This is garbage. Complete and utter garbage."

Faith Cole stared at the laptop screen. The document was bleeding. Red digital ink slashed through every single paragraph she had written over the last forty-eight hours.

Her vision blurred. A sharp, rhythmic pain throbbed behind her right eye.

She slammed the laptop shut. The sudden movement knocked her elbow against a ceramic mug.

Cold, stale black coffee spilled across the cheap veneer of her Brooklyn apartment desk.

"Damn it!"

Faith scrambled, grabbing a fistful of paper towels to soak up the brown puddle before it reached her hard drive. Her chest heaved. The resentment she felt toward the client known only as 'Ms. B' at AURA Automotive clawed at her throat.

She needed to vent. She needed to scream.

Faith snatched her cell phone from the dry side of the desk. She opened her notes app. Her thumbs hit the screen with brutal force.

She typed a wild, highly inappropriate, and completely unapproved promotional copy for the sports car. She compared the engine to a feral beast in heat. She mocked the brand's stiff, century-old heritage.

It felt incredibly good. A tiny rush of vindication cooled her burning eyes.

She copied the three-hundred-word rant. She needed to send this to Leo. Leo got her this freelance gig. Leo would understand the sheer misery of dealing with Ms. B.

Faith switched to her messaging app. Her eyelids were heavy, dragging down with the weight of three sleepless nights. Her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Her thumb swiped down her recent contacts. It hovered over a name she had added just days ago, a contact she hadn't even fully renamed yet. Just as she was about to select Leo's name, a text notification from her cousin Adalyn popped down from the top of the screen, flaunting a new designer bag. The sheer audacity of the message stung her tired eyes. Frustrated, Faith aggressively swiped the notification away. In her blind annoyance, she didn't realize her thumb had tapped the wrong chat. Without checking the recipient, she pasted the massive block of text.

She pressed send.

A soft swoosh sounded in the quiet room.

A second later, Faith blinked. Her eyes focused on the name at the top of the screen.

Emerson Beard.

Not Leo. Emerson Beard. The elite brand consultant Leo had practically begged her to network with.

Faith's heart stopped. It didn't just skip a beat; it completely seized in her chest. The blood drained from her face, pooling in her stomach and making her nauseous.

Her fingers shook violently as she pressed down on the message bubble, praying for an 'undo' option.

Time limit exceeded.

Panic seized her throat. She couldn't breathe. She held down the power button on the side of her phone, desperate to turn the device off, as if a black screen could erase the reality of her career suicide.

Right as the screen dimmed, a banner notification dropped down from the top.

Emerson Beard.

Faith