Chapter 1
I was James Sinclair's wife, and the title came with everything.
Everyone at the company bowed and scraped when they saw me, because the business belonged to my husband and my word was law.
One day, I took a dislike to the new intern and announced her dismissal to the entire company.
I was waiting for her to break down and beg when the HR director stepped in and stopped me.
She gave me a strange look and spoke slowly. "Mrs. Sinclair, you may not know this yet. Your husband found out about you and Mr. Lewis last month, and he bought up ninety-nine percent of the company's shares overnight."
I stood there, stunned, my mind buzzing.
The HR director went on. "You don't call the shots here anymore."
I turned to look at the intern, and she gave me a small smile that put the chill down my spine.
*****
I walked into the lobby, the sharp click of my heels echoing through the space.
"Josh, did somebody change the scent in the lobby?" I asked, keeping my tone light.
Josh Barton popped out from behind the front desk with a grin all over his face.
"Mrs. Sinclair, you're here. We did. We switched it to the gardenia you asked for last time," he replied.
I didn't even look at him. My gaze swept across the entire office.
"Hmm," I said, my voice flat.
My eyes finally landed on the corner, where a cleaner was moving painfully slowly, dragging the mop across the floor one stroke at a time.
Everyone around us pretended to work with their ears wide open.
I pointed.
"That one is too slow. Let her go," I said.
The whole place went silent. Even the sound of typing stopped.
Josh broke out in a sweat. He hurried over and lowered his voice.
"Mrs. Sinclair, about that—" he said, and he hesitated.
"What? You don't understand me?" I frowned. For six years, James Sinclair's company had been my private garden, and if I wanted a weed pulled, nobody dared stop me.
"No, Mrs. Sinclair," he said, and his voice shook.
Then a woman stepped in front of me. It was Diane Bowen from HR, and her face was serious as she held out a document.
"Mrs. Sinclair, you don't have the authority to fire anyone," she said, and her voice didn't waver.
I smiled.
"Diane, are you looking to lose your job?"
She didn't back down. Instead, she handed me the document.
"Please take a look," she said.
I glanced at it.
Black text on white paper.
The title read: [Share Transfer Agreement.]
The final shareholder's name stabbed into my eyes, and it was Emily Lane.
I jerked my head up and locked eyes with Diane. She looked away, and she didn't move.
A chill crept up from my feet.
I slowly turned my head toward the corner.
The slow-moving cleaning lady had stopped.
She straightened up, took off her hat, and then slowly removed her mask.
It was a young face.
She was beautiful, with an innocent look, and her eyes were bright in a way that felt like a hook.
I knew that face.
She was the girl on James' phone wallpaper last month. He had called her the new star intern, and he used the name Emily.
Emily Lane.
She walked toward me, mop in hand.
In the office, dozens of eyes were glued to us.
She stopped just a step away from me.
Water droplets hung from the plastic mop handle, dripping onto the tile and making a little wet spot on the floor.
She looked at me with a hint of a smile on her lips and eyes as cold as ice.
"Mrs. Sinclair," she said, her voice soft and gentle.
Her tone was almost tender, and there was nothing warm in it.
"The tile was just mopped, so it's slippery. Watch your step," she added.
I felt a surge of rage rush straight to my head.
I wanted to raise my hand, but my arm felt like it was filled with lead.
The air seemed to freeze, and every stare in the room held me in place like glue.
Diane stood beside me like a loyal guard, except she was Emily's guard now.
I stared at Emily's face, so pure and so pleased with itself.
She wasn't just warning me. She was making a declaration.
This place belonged to her now.
From that day on, I, Sophia Quinn, didn't even have the right to fall down in this building.
My breathing came out loud and ragged, like an old broken bellows.
I pulled out my phone, and my hands shook as I dialed James.
The screen lit up, and the ringtone echoed in the dead silent office.
No one picked up.
I dialed again.
This time, it was cut off after just one ring.
Emily's smile grew even wider.
She even turned to the side, as if she was being considerate and giving me some dignity.
I stared at my phone screen, and James Sinclair's name on it had turned into a joke at my expense.
I spun around, shoved past Diane, and bolted for the elevator.
Behind me, there was not a single sound.
Nobody stopped me, and nobody laughed, and all I got was a room of silent stares.
The elevator doors slid open, and I rushed inside, slamming the close button over and over.
The mirror-like elevator walls reflected a woman's face.
Her makeup was flawless, her hair was perfectly styled, and her eyes belonged to a trapped animal at the edge of a cliff.
That was me.
The elevator descended, and I felt that sickening drop in my stomach.
My stomach was churning.
It wasn't because of the elevator.
It was that piece of paper, that name, and that little light line about watching my step.
Six years.
I had taken James from a man with nothing and put him where he was.
I thought I was the only queen of this kingdom.
Turns out, I was just a stepping stone.
Now he was done with me.
I was the cleaner in the corner who moved too slowly.
One word, and I was gone.