Chapter 2
After dinner, I grabbed my notebook and started seriously mapping out our household budget. "I make $6,000 a month. After rent and utilities, that's $1,000, and another $1,500 for daily expenses.
"Your salary... I looked it up, trainee police officers get about $1,500, right? So together, we could save $5,000 every month. Maybe... in five years? We would be able to afford the down payment for a small apartment."
The more I talked, the more excited I got. But when I looked up, I caught a complicated look in Elvis's eyes.
"My salary is actually more than $1,500," he said.
"Wait, really? How much? $2,500?" My eyes sparkled.
He fell silent.
I thought Elvis was feeling embarrassed, so I patted his hand reassuringly. "No worries. You're already awesome. I'll make the money, and you'll be the eye candy... Wait, I mean, you'll protect the people."
Elvis couldn't help but smile, the frost in his eyes thawing a bit. "Alright."
But when night came, figuring out where to sleep was the biggest headache.
Even for me alone, that tiny bed felt way too cramped.
Finally, clutching my pillow, I pointed at the couch. "Um... Maybe you could crash on the couch tonight? I'll go buy a bigger bed tomorrow."
Elvis glanced at the narrow couch, then at me, and nodded.
Later that night, I woke up thirsty and stumbled out of the bedroom, only to find Elvis still awake.
He was standing on the tiny balcony, his figure looking so alone as he spoke on the phone. "Get the penthouse on the top floor of Building A at Sunset Heights ready.
"Yeah, make sure it fits her preferences.
"And for that project at her company, Starlight Garden—acquire the main investor backing it.
"Have it all settled by tomorrow."
His voice was cold as ice, carrying the confidence of someone who was used to calling the shots—so different from the quiet cop I'd seen during the day.
Who was he talking to? Who was "her"? And what project was he talking about?
My chest tightened. I quietly slipped back into the bedroom, unable to sleep a wink all night.
*****
The next morning, I dragged myself to work with dark circles under my eyes, still replaying that mysterious phone call from last night in my head.
As soon as I walked into the office, I could tell something was off.
Everyone was crowded around the bulletin board, gossiping and whispering.
I squeezed my way through and took a look. Then my eyes widened in shock.
The announcement read: [Notice of Appointment for the Starlight Garden Project—Nicole Sutton has been appointed as the project director. Effective immediately.]
No way!
This was the biggest project of the year. Everyone was scrambling for it, especially Michael, who was sure it was in the bag, thanks to his family background.
And now, they actually gave it to me?
Michael stormed over, his face dark with anger. "Nicole, what kind of tricks did you pull?"
Chloe, the pretentious woman, mocked, "Oh, please, Mr. Grant. You can't beat her cop husband. Maybe she's got some 'connections' we don't even know about."
Everyone burst out laughing around me.
Rage made my whole body go numb, but I couldn't say a word in my own defense.
Because honestly, I was as clueless as everyone else.
Right then, the elusive chairman, the one everyone talked about but nobody ever saw, actually showed up in person.
He walked right up to me, shook my hand warmly, and said, "Ms. Sutton, I've heard so much about you. The main investor for Starlight Garden insisted you be the one in charge. Work hard. I believe in you."
Everyone was totally stunned.
Michael's expression kept shifting, looking awkward.
I wandered back to my desk, feeling totally spaced out, like I was dreaming.
The biggest investor? I had no idea who that even was.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Elvis. [Got a promotion. Are you happy?]
My heart skipped a beat. I called him back, but he didn't pick up.
I couldn't shake the feeling that this had to be his doing.
But how could a regular cop be so powerful?
*****
After work, I stumbled home, feeling lost and drained. Elvis had already cooked dinner.
I saw him in the kitchen, apron on, busy with the food. I couldn't help but walk over and hug him from behind.
"Did you have something to do with what happened at work today?" I mumbled, burying my face in his back.
Elvis froze for a moment.
"I just... asked a friend for a favor," he said as he turned around, avoiding my gaze.
"What kind of friend is that impressive?"
"Just someone I know from business."
Another friend? Were all his friends this powerful?
I had so many questions, but when I met his sincere gaze, I swallowed all my doubts.
Maybe he just didn't want me to worry.
"Elvis." I looked up at him, my tone earnest. "Thank you. But please, don't do this again. I want to rely on myself."
His eyes lingered on me, deep and searching, for a long moment before he finally nodded. "Okay."
I thought that was the end of it.
Then, that weekend, our old high school class president, Bert, decided to throw a reunion.