Chapter 1

My phone pinged. The screen flickered, and the notification tone made me flinch.

I was sprawled on the bed of a small rental room, not even having the strength to move a finger.

I'd been working nonstop for fourteen hours today.

In the morning, I tagged along with my boss to meet clients. By afternoon, I was organizing his contracts, and come evening, I was still stuck revising his proposals.

In between, I even managed to order coffee for my boss twice.

What kind of sin did I commit in my previous life to end up being such a corporate mule in this one?

I picked up my phone. It was Chiara, my only best friend.

She sent: [Hey babe, going out for drinks tonight? A new livehouse just opened. I heard the singer is super hot.]

Listening to Chiara's super excited voice message, I buried my face in the pillow and grumbled back: [Nope, not drinking, not going out. I'm about to drop dead here.]

Chiara replied: [Alright alright. Then get some rest. I'm heading to the bar to have some fun.]

I tossed my phone aside, rolled over, and stared at the ceiling.

Downstairs, a child was crying after being scolded. Outside the window, the air conditioner unit droned nonstop.

Please… give me a break…

At twenty-six, I was renting a 300-square-foot room, and the money in my bank account wasn't even as long as my age.

And I had lived like this for three whole years.

Commuting by crowded subway every day, staring at the computer until my eyes burned, and the only moment of happiness was my salary hitting my account at the end of the month.

And then, after paying off my credit card, it was gone.

When would I finally get rich? I really wanted to be very, very rich.

I rolled over, grabbed my phone again, and opened Chiara's chat. She sent over a photo.

The livehouse was bathed in moody red lights, and on stage was a guy with sharp, chiseled features, his head bowed as he hugged his guitar.

It couldn't really see his face, but that jawline was seriously something else.

[Check it out! What do you think?] Chiara sent another voice message, her voice practically buzzing with fangirl excitement.

I forced a smile and typed back: [Meh.]

Chiara: [You didn't even really look!]

I replied: [Look at what? If I had time to check out some guy, I'd rather just get a couple extra hours of sleep.]

Chiara: [Athena, if you keep this up, you'll never get married.]

I replied: [Whatever, it's not like anyone wants to marry a corporate drone like me anyway.]

After sending that, I tossed my phone onto the bed and closed my eyes.

But for some reason, a face suddenly popped into my mind. A face I knew all too well.

Yep, it was Kevin Carter. My boss.

The youngest chairman of Kevin Group, a regular on the covers of business magazines, and the man every socialite in the city fantasizes about marrying.

Of course, he was also the guy I'd spent the last three years complaining about at least eight hundred times a day.

Honestly, Kevin was seriously good-looking—deep-set eyes, a sharp nose, and those lips always pressed into a cold, unfriendly line.

He'd got the looks, but zero warmth. Total model vibes, but all business.

At almost six foot three, he could make the whole conference room feel like it'd freeze by walking in.

Looks weren't gonna help anything here.

Who did that? Who texted their employee at 2 AM to change a proposal?

Kevin was a devil in a supermodel's body.

I snapped myself out of it, shaking my head.

No, stop. Why was he even popping into my head? Damn.

I rolled over, grabbed my phone again, and started typing a flurry of messages to Chiara. [I'm telling you, the biggest regret of my life is joining Kevin Group.

[Kevin is such an absolute nightmare. He's not even human.

[He made me revise the proposal seven times today, seven times! Seriously, is he nuts or what? He even nitpicks the placement of punctuation marks for ages.

[If it weren't for the paycheck, I would've dumped my coffee right on his face by now.]

After sending those messages, I shoved my phone under my pillow and squeezed my eyes shut.

But a few seconds later, I still wasn't done ranting, so I grabbed my phone again and started typing furiously. [Last time, he messaged me at midnight to book him a flight.

[I told him I was already in bed, and all he said was, "So?"

[So? Seriously? Am I supposed to be on call 24/7? Am I his secretary or his personal maid? What is this, the 1800s or something?

[And just this afternoon, he made me go out and buy him an Americano. No sugar, and the temperature had to be exactly sixty-five degrees.

[Sixty-five! How the hell does he even taste if it's off? What is he, some kind of human thermometer?

[I had to hit up three different coffee shops before he was finally satisfied, and by the time I got back, he'd already changed the proposal again and had the nerve to say I was inefficient.

[Seriously, what the fuck. If all my time goes into fetching his coffee, of course I'm slow.

[Ugh, forget it. The more I rant, the more pathetic I sound.

[Babe, why is my life so miserable... When am I ever going to get that classic CEO-falls-for-me storyline?

[Isn't that how it always goes in those mini dramas? The CEO splurges, buys out a fish pond just for me, and says, "Woman, you've caught my eye."

[But in my case? My CEO only cares if my formatting is pixel-perfect.]

[But honestly, even if he were the classic domineering CEO, with Kevin Carter's personality, he probably only sees people as either useful or useless, not as men or women.

[Sigh, I guess I'm just one of those useful-but-easily-exploited corporate drones. But hey, even a corporate drone's life is still a life, right...?]

I went off to Chiara, tossed my phone aside, and sprawled out on the bed, waiting for my bestie to hit me with some sympathy.

Three seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

I grabbed it, annoyed, thinking why Chiara was so talkative today. Usually, she only texted me when she spotted a cute guy.

The moment the screen lit up, my blood ran cold. Oh crap!

Seeing "Kevin" front and center at the top of the chat screen, I instantly sobered up.

Wasn't that supposed to go to Chiara? How the hell did it end up in this bastard's chat?

Oh no, oh no, oh no... Every single rant had been sent to Kevin. Not a single one missed.

I'm doomed. Just bury me now.

[I'm telling you, the biggest regret of my life is joining Kevin Group. That bastard Kevin...

[Last time, he messaged me out of nowhere at midnight...

[And just this afternoon, he sent me out for coffee again...

[But whatever, even if he was that typical bossy CEO...]

All those messages, lined up one after another, like, more than a dozen.

And right at the very bottom, there it was, the bastard had replied. [Saw it.]

Just two words. But I shot up in bed. That bastard actually saw it.

I scrambled to unsend the messages, hands shaking. But it couldn't.

It was over. It was all over. I was not even gonna be able to keep my job as his workhorse now.

Forget being a corporate drone. My social life was officially over.

I glanced at the clock. It was 12:30 AM already.

Kevin was wide awake, scrolling through his phone, and had read every single roast I sent about him.

My heart went ice cold. I crashed back onto the bed, only one thought looping in my head—should I march in tomorrow and hand in my resignation?

Right then, my phone dinged again. [See me in my office tomorrow.]

Just that one line. No emoji, no expression, nothing at all.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold onto my phone.

What the hell was I supposed to reply? Was there anything I can even say right now?

Okay, Mr. Carter? Sorry, Mr. Carter? I sent it to the wrong person?

Just as I was still panicking over what to reply, my phone buzzed again. [And don't forget to bring me a 65-degree coffee!]

An exclamation mark? He actually sent me an exclamation mark.

What was that supposed to mean? Was he actually pissed off? That bastard actually had the nerve to get mad at me?

I burrowed under my blanket, clenched my fists, and let out a hopeless, dramatic wail.

I didn't sleep a single wink all night. I kept tossing and turning, imagining every possible disaster that could happen in the office tomorrow.

The worst that could happen was getting fired.

But honestly, facing him in person tomorrow felt way scarier than losing my job.

Especially after I unloaded a whole essay's worth of insults on him.