The morning started with office gossip. Word around the water cooler was that Charlotte had snatched a lucrative new project right out from under Travis Powell. Seeing such a fat bonus fly away, Travis had looked like he was about to cough up blood.

By mid-morning, he was acting like a petulant child, intentionally occupying the main conference room just to spite Charlotte. Since the two departments shared the space, his little power play was purely meant to be an annoyance.

Charlotte didn't even blink. She ignored his juvenile antics entirely and marched her team into Miranda Green's office instead.

"Don't waste your energy on him," Miranda advised, trying to soothe the tension. "He only knows how to be a nuisance. I’ll bring it up with management later."

"Not necessary," Charlotte said, her gaze fixed firmly on the documents in her lap. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Bianca Roberts told me I’m getting a promotion next year. I’ll just wait until then. If I don’t bury him when I’m in charge, I’m not doing my job."

The entire room went silent.

Arianna looked at Charlotte with newfound clarity—she was a high-level shark, cold, efficient, and ruthless when it mattered.

...

The new project required a massive amount of paperwork. Near lunch, Arianna headed toward Miranda’s office in the middle of the hallway, clutching a thick stack of files. She stood before the slightly ajar door, her hand raised to knock, when a voice drifted out.

"Do you really intend to compete with Arianna? What are you even trying to prove?" It was Miranda.

Jenna Lawson’s voice replied, "It's about the seniority, of course. To see who secures the higher position a year from now."

Miranda let out a dry, dismissive laugh. "You don't need to compete. I can announce it right now: you win. Happy? Does that actually mean anything to you?"

Jenna faltered, then stubbornly doubled down. "Of course it means something."

"For example?" Miranda countered. "Go on, tell me."

Jenna stammered for a long moment, unable to come up with a single tangible reason.

"And then what?" Miranda sighed. "Will you just go hunt down the next 'Arianna' to fixate on, turning her into your internal demon until she consumes your entire life? Jenna, there’s a difference between healthy professional competition and your approach—obsessing over every single project just to compare notes. You haven't even cleared your probation. You're still in the growth phase. Focus on yourself. Just do your job."

Whatever hit a nerve, it worked. Jenna’s voice turned sharp, defensive. "So, you think I'm just not as good as Arianna, is that it?"

Miranda felt a wave of exhaustion hit her. She had poured out so much advice, and Jenna had only latched onto that one point. Hopeless.

"If that’s how you want to see it," Miranda said, giving up, "I can't help you."

—

On her way back, Arianna bumped into a teammate.

"Get those signed already?"

"I haven't gone yet," Arianna said with a soft smile. "I took a detour to the breakroom."

"Oh..."

In truth, the moment Arianna had recognized Jenna’s voice, she had turned around and walked away. She didn't know what they had said, but the atmosphere felt heavy. When Charlotte returned from her meeting, she found her little assistant slumped over her desk, staring listlessly at her computer screen. Gone was the usual sparkle in her eyes; she looked completely drained.

Charlotte had been there for that conversation with Miranda and Jenna. She knew exactly what had gone down. In the corporate world, this kind of trivial workplace drama was beneath notice, but it clearly bothered her sweet assistant. Charlotte was an expert at tearing enemies apart, but she was entirely untrained in the art of comfort.

During the lunch break, Charlotte scoured the internet for motivational quotes and fired them off to Arianna.

Charlotte: [I stand on the first floor and someone yells insults; I hear it and get angry. I stand on the tenth floor and hear them; I can't quite make out the words and assume they’re waving hello. I stand on the hundredth floor and someone yells; I look down, and all I see is the scenery.]

[Broaden your perspective, and your life will become extraordinary.]

[Don't mind the sound of wind and rain through the forest; just keep singing as you walk.]

[There is wind in the world, rain, and a pretty great version of you.]

[I’m in great shape—I can carry cement, lug around gas tanks, but I just can't carry the weight of missing you.]

That last one was immediately recalled.

[Sorry, sent that by mistake.]

Arianna couldn't help but laugh out loud, the gray cloud over her heart vanishing instantly. Charlotte: a ruthless, high-level boss to her enemies, and a clumsy, heartwarming soul to her own.

—

That afternoon, Arianna received a message from Maxwell King.

[Arianna, have you eaten yet?]

He attached a photo of his lunch—a perfectly portioned, nutrient-dense meal. Arianna had nothing to show, so she sent a picture of her computer desktop. [I’ve eaten. Taking a break now.]

Maxwell: [What do you want for dinner tonight?]

Arianna blinked, confused. [What?]

[We agreed last night, didn't we? I’m cooking tonight. What does Mrs. King want? You can put in an order.]

Arianna tried to rack her brain, but she was at a loss. [Is there a menu? Or... what are you capable of making?]

Maxwell: [I can make most things. If I can't, I’ll learn. Mrs. King, just pick whatever you want.]

Arianna: "..."

That wasn't what she meant at all. After a moment, she gave up; she didn't really have a favorite. [...I don't know. Anything is fine. You decide?]

Maxwell let out a soft, helpless laugh through the screen.

[Braised lion's head meatballs, shredded pork with garlic sauce, spicy diced chicken, red-braised pork, butter-garlic shrimp, Beijing-style shredded pork, steamed river fish, braised fish, pan-seared butterfly shrimp...]

[The menu is served. Choose to your heart's content, Mrs. King.]

The list was extensive, rivaling a high-end restaurant with a variety of regional flavors. It was dizzying. Arianna picked two dishes. Maxwell added two more and checked in: [Steamed fish and salt-and-pepper shrimp. Sound good?]

Arianna replied with a sticker: a small, wide-eyed kitten nodding its head at the camera, its ears twitching with naive, adorable excitement.

Maxwell stared at the sticker for several seconds, his lips curling into a slow, amused smile that rumbled deep in his chest. Noah Carter, who had just dropped by to mooch off a meal, glanced at him with pure terror and quietly scooted his own lunch box a few inches further away.