Chapter 1

The whole company was buzzing about the new female CEO.

She was the sole heiress of a wealthy family, young, in charge, and so cool it was almost intimidating. And the best part was single.

My best friend slammed his hand on the table and said, "Friend, whoever lands her can skip thirty years of hard work."

I kept my head down, shoveling food into my mouth, and stayed silent for a long time.

It wasn't that I didn't want to respond.

The thing was, Julia Sinclair and I, we got married, had the big wedding, and then ended up divorced.

Our wedding photos are still stashed at the very bottom of my closet.

Life always throws you a few curveballs you can't get over.

*****

Frank Miller was still holding his plate of scrambled eggs when he sat down, and before his butt even hit the chair, he was already talking a mile a minute. "Henry Evans, Henry, big news."

I kept eating my rice, not even bothering to look up. "Yeah."

He didn't care if I was paying attention. He waved his fork and started speaking, "Our company gets a new CEO Julia Sinclair, the heiress of Sinclair Holdings.

“They say she took over her family's business at twenty-eight, super sharp, gets things done fast, and she's got that badass vibe..."

He leaned in close, dropped his voice, and shot me a sly grin. "The key is she's still single."

My fork stopped in mid-air for 0.3 seconds.

Mark Brown scooted over with his tray, his eyes shining brighter than the cafeteria lights. "Frank, is that for real?"

Frank leaned back, crossing his legs. "Jack Lane from HR told me himself. It's really true."

Mark started rubbing his hands together, looking like those old-timers at the local diner when they hear someone's daughter is still single.

Frank gave me another nudge. "Henry, if anyone could land a woman like that, they'd skip thirty years of hard work."

I swallowed my food, nearly choking on it.

Skip thirty years of hard work.

He made it sound so easy.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him that the new CEO parachuting in was the same woman who, three years ago, showed up at city hall with me wearing flip-flops and a plain white tee, waiting in line for two hours.

The day she got the marriage certificate, her household registration book was taken from her mother's handbag.

But when it came to the divorce, everything was done out in the open no secrets, no drama. It was all very dignified and respectable.

Frank was totally lost in his fantasy, his eyes practically bubbling with pink hearts. "Should I get ready? Maybe get a haircut? Or pick out a new outfit?"

I checked out his cafeteria tray: two greasy meats and a limp veggie and then looked at his forehead, shining like he'd run a marathon.

After three seconds of silence, I said, "Bro, snap out of it."

He didn't catch my sarcasm and kept hyping himself up. "You don't get it. Women eat up sincerity. I'm gonna write her a handwritten letter full of sincerity, no shortcuts."

I finished off my food, stuffed the last bite in my mouth, and got up to leave.

It's not that I don't respect my friend's dreams.

It's that if I kept listening, I might've spit my food all over him.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, the atmosphere of the whole company was even more lively than New Year's Eve.

The tea room was surrounded by crowds. Footsteps in the corridor doubled compared to usual. The entire floor was filled with restlessness, even the receptionist had changed her lipstick.

I huddled at my desk, tilted my monitor as far as it would go, wishing I could just disappear behind the screen.

Frank was sitting right next to me, messing with his hair in front of his phone's selfie camera.

Yep, I wasn't imagining that this big, tough guy with six feet tall was pinching what little hair he had, trying to make it look stylish.

Frank turned to me. "Why aren't you nervous?"

I said, "Why should I be?"

He shot me a look of pure disdain. "You're never gonna get rich."

I smiled and kept quiet.

Honestly, not getting rich sounds perfect. If I stay broke, I won't ever have to cross paths with Julia again.

All I want is to stay invisible, make it to retirement without any trouble, get my steady paycheck every month, and sleep in on weekends no drama, no surprises.

"She's here." Someone shouted.

A commotion broke out at the end of the hallway.

The sound of high heels echoed down the hallway, each step landing with a crisp, deliberate rhythm.

The pace was neither fast nor slow, and every step was very steady.

I didn't bother looking up.

I didn't even need to look up to know who it was.

That rhythm, the way her heels hit the floor even if there were a thousand people walking by, I'd recognize her footsteps in an instant.

After all, that sound had woken me up on countless weekend mornings.

Back then, it was usually around seven in the morning.

The sound of her slippers shuffling from the bedroom to the living room wasn't as crisp, but the beat was identical ka, ka, ka... unhurried, steady, and carrying that built-in sense of command that made you sit up straight.

The whole office went dead silent.

The silence was not natural, it was the kind where everyone held their breath at the same time.

I snuck a peek.

It was Julia. She wore a black blazer, her hair pulled back into a flawless bun, and her expression was icy enough to chill the whole room.

She was a whole different people from the girl who used to sprawl on my couch three years ago, rocking my old hoodie and snacking on chips.

The HR director trailed behind her, his smile so wide it could catch flies, and kept introducing, "Ms. Sinclair, this is our Marketing Department. We currently have twelve employees..."

Julia's eyes swept over everyone in the room.

From the first row to the fourth, her gaze was steady and cool, not a hint of rush like she was sizing up the whole place without breaking a sweat.

And then her gaze paused onto me.

The air froze.

I could feel her eyes on me soft as a whisper, but heavy enough to pin me in place.

Julia tilted her head ever so slightly.

Her lips twitched. "Henry."

The moment Julia said my name, the air in the office shifted like everyone suddenly felt the tension, and you could almost taste the change in the room.

Every single person in the office whipped their heads around to stare at me.

Frank's mouth dropped open in a perfect circle.

Mark's eyes were about to pop out of his head.

The girls from the next team shot each other looks, swapping gossip faster than a quantum network.

I slowly lifted my head, squeezed out a smile that was uglier than crying. "Hello, Ms. Sinclair."

She looked at me for two seconds, gave a slight nod, then looked away and kept walking.

Her steps didn't falter for a second, like she'd glanced at a street sign and kept moving.

But those two seconds were more than enough to pin me right at the top of the office rumor mill.

Once she was out of sight, Frank practically jumped out of his seat and grabbed my arm. "Henry, she knows you?"

I mumbled, "Maybe we've met once or twice."

Frank's eyes went wide. "Might've? She calls you by your full name, Full name. Do you even realize what that means?"

I knew it meant my social death had officially begun.