The CEO's Biggest Mistake

The elevator smelled like expensive cologne and corporate ambition.

I recognized both.

I used to wear that ambition like a second skin, back when I was twenty-three, fresh out of college, convinced that hard work and loyalty were enough to build a life on. Back when I believed in things like trust. Like love. Like Ethan Kane.

That was three years ago.

A lot can change in three years.

The elevator doors slid open on the 40th floor of Kane Industries Tower, and the first thing I noticed was the silence. Then the stares. One by one, heads lifted from computer screens, fingers froze over keyboards, and the entire open-plan office seemed to collectively hold its breath.

I didn't blame them. I was worth staring at.

I smoothed the lapel of my ivory blazer, tailored, sharp, the kind that said I didn't come here to be liked, and stepped out onto the polished marble floor. My heels clicked with every step. Measured. Deliberate. The sound of a woman who had rebuilt herself from nothing and was no longer in a hurry to prove it.

"Miss Sinclair?"

The receptionist, young, wide-eyed, a little flustered, stood up so fast her chair rolled back and hit the desk behind her.

"Yes," I said simply.

"I, welcome. We've been expecting you." She grabbed her tablet, nearly dropped it, caught it. "I'm Lily, Mr. Kane's, I mean, the executive floor receptionist. I'll let Mr. Kane know you've arrived."

I tilted my head slightly. "Tell Mr. Kane I'm settling in first. I'll come to him when I'm ready."

Lily blinked. Twice. Like the sentence didn't compute.

I gave her a small, polite smile, the kind that leaves no room for argument, and turned toward the corner office that had been assigned to me. The one with the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline. The one the board had given me over the objections of a man who had never once, in his entire life, been overruled.

Until now.

My office was exactly as I had requested.

Minimalist. Clean. A wide glass desk, a white orchid in the corner, and a view that made you feel like you were standing on top of the world. I set my bag down, walked to the window, and looked out at the city below.

Three years ago, I had looked at this same skyline from a much lower floor. I had been nobody then, just a sharp girl from Brooklyn with a scholarship degree and a hunger that the wealthy people in this building wouldn't understand if they tried. I had clawed my way up to personal assistant to the CEO, telling myself it was just the beginning.

I had been right. It was just the beginning.

But not in the way I imagined.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Just one. Then I opened them, straightened my spine, and turned away from the window.

Sentiment was a luxury I couldn't afford today.

I had been in my office