When the video call connected, Maxwell saw Arianna sitting at the hotel desk. Her fair, slender fingers tapped lightly against the keyboard.

Sensing his presence, she glanced up, meeting his gaze through the screen. "Give me a second, I’m almost done." She offered a soft smile. "Just finishing up my daily work log. Only a few lines left."

Maxwell watched her, his gaze lingering on her delicate, long lashes. "Take your time. There’s no rush."

The rhythmic clacking of the keyboard filled the silence between them.

Arianna sat by the window. Behind her, the city was a sprawling, glittering tapestry of neon lights and towering skyscrapers, suspended in the velvet darkness of the night. It was a picturesque view, but Maxwell couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was dressed in a simple white tee and loungewear, her thin shoulders draped in a light cardigan to ward off the chill of the air conditioning. She sat cross-legged in the chair, her hair loosely pinned up with a few stray wisps framing her face, lending her an effortlessly chic, languid air. Her eyes were bright and clear, her nose petite, and her lips—touched with a hint of lipstick—looked like an alluring rose blooming in the dark of the room.

Maxwell watched her intently, his dark eyes mirroring the infinite depth of the night outside.

After typing the final sentence, Arianna closed her laptop and sighed with relief. "All done!"

Maxwell chuckled softly. "How was your day? Are you exhausted?"

"Not really," she replied, leaning closer to the camera. "It was mostly just a tour of the office and getting briefed on the upcoming projects. Nothing too heavy."

"So, who did they assign you to work with?"

"Ah, about that," Arianna frowned, looking troubled. "There’s actually something I don't quite understand—a work matter. Could I ask for your advice?"

She spoke with the polished, polite tone of a junior employee seeking guidance from a senior. Maxwell couldn't help but laugh.

"Arianna."

"Yes?"

"I’m your husband, remember? You were the one who said it just this afternoon."

Arianna froze for a split second, caught off guard.

Maxwell’s voice drifted through the speakers, warm and lingering, wrapped in a layer of gentle affection. "You don't need to be so formal with your own husband. If anything, I wish you’d ask me for help more often."

Arianna: "..."

The situation had begun that afternoon. The project lead had called an emergency meeting to emphasize the core objectives and upcoming milestones before turning the floor over to Miranda Green to finalize the teams. Miranda had worked through the list, pairing everyone up until only Arianna was left.

"Everything’s been distributed," Miranda had said, her tone professional. "Arianna, are you okay with being in a group of one? Do you have any concerns?"

A sudden silence fell over the conference room. Everyone was trying to figure out if it was a mere coincidence or if Miranda was testing the new hire's loyalty and compliance.

But it didn't feel like bullying. Miranda wasn't that kind of person.

Travis Powell, the manager, looked up and frowned, clearly displeased with the arrangement, but he kept his silence.

Arianna had been stunned. "Just... me?"

"Correct," Miranda said. "But you’re welcome to consult with the others if you get stuck. You can ask me, too. We have industry elites all around us; I doubt anyone will hold back from helping you."

Arianna had accepted the mission in a daze, feeling as if she were sleepwalking.

As the meeting adjourned, Miranda had lingered, walking beside her. "Feeling the pressure?"

"A little," Arianna admitted, still reeling.

Miranda chuckled, glancing at her. "Not bad. At least you didn't cry."

"I... I wasn't going to cry." Though, internally, she was already drowning in a river of self-doubt.

Miranda patted her shoulder. "Keep at it, Arianna. I trust my gut—I don't make mistakes when it comes to talent."

Arianna still didn't understand what she meant, and with the mountain of tasks she’d been given, her head felt ready to burst. She had absolutely no idea how to approach tomorrow’s work.

...

After listening to Arianna recount the events, Maxwell asked, "What exactly did they assign you to do?"

Arianna slumped against the desk, burying her face in her arms. Her voice came out muffled. "I have to liaise with the project team, assess funding, evaluate personnel risks, and decide if the project is even viable."

Even Maxwell was surprised. "That much?"

To dump such high-stakes work on a new hire? A department manager wouldn't make such a rookie mistake. Unless...

As Arianna began to moan about her predicament, a light, teasing laugh came from the other end of the line. She looked up, stunned. She couldn't believe Maxwell was actually enjoying her misery.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm happy for you," Maxwell said softly. "Our Arianna is doing great."

She was bewildered by the sudden praise. Her brain, currently operating at half-capacity, blinked slowly. "What does that even mean?"

"She’s testing you. No company would actually hand mission-critical work to a rookie. If I remember correctly, risk assessment is the primary goal of your entire project, isn't it?"

Arianna felt like her brain was nothing but flour and water—a messy, thick sludge that couldn't handle any complex movement. "A-and then?"

Maxwell patiently broke it down for her. "I suspect the real risk assessment is already being handled by the experts—the 'big bosses' you mentioned."

Arianna was even more confused. "If they’re already doing it, why make me do it too?"

"Because she wants to test your capabilities, or perhaps, sharpen them. They aren't looking at the final result alone; they want to see your problem-solving skills. They want to see how you handle being thrown into the deep end."

Maxwell’s tone turned gentle. "I don’t know what their ultimate end game is, but I can tell you this: if you show them what you’re made of, you’re going to get an unexpected reward."

It was as if a thick fog had been lifted by his words. Looking back at the afternoon, Arianna finally understood.

"So that's it."

"Exactly," Maxwell said.

His voice was deep, magnetic, and carried a trailing edge of warmth. In the quiet of the night, it felt like a feather brushing against her heart, sending a trail of electricity down her spine. Arianna found herself strangely addicted to his voice, wanting to hear him speak forever.

"So," she whispered, "did you analyze anything else?"

"Anything else?" Maxwell murmured.

"Yeah. Is there more?"

"There is."

"What?"

He stared at her through the screen, his eyes soft, doting, and laced with a smile. "That our Arianna is truly excellent. And that in the future, you’re going to go far—and thrive in the career you love."