Chapter 2Rebellion Comes at Midnight

I was known for being the quintessential stuffy male secretary.

Meticulous.

Never smiling.

For three years, I’d been a model of perfect, error-free diligence.

But being a secretary was never my endgame. It was a stepping stone, a way to earn a recommendation from Charlotte herself.

Last week, I learned the company was launching a new subsidiary. They needed a manager. As the head of the project, Charlotte had the final say on who to recommend. I’d submitted my application a few days ago, and the decision was still pending.

When I got back to my desk, a few colleagues swarmed me.

“Simon, has the transfer list been finalized?”

“Not yet.”

“It has to be you, right? Ms. Monroe trusts you so much. I can’t imagine it being anyone else.”

“I agree. After the boss, you’re the busiest person in this entire company. You haven’t had a proper weekend in three years, have you?”

I just smiled and shook my head. “It’s not a sure thing. The boss has her own plans.”

But despite my words, a spark of hope flickered within me.

The next day, Charlotte called me into her office.

“Submit the recommendation for the new general manager to the board for approval and announcement.”

I looked at the name on the file.

Felix Vance.

He’d started at the company at the same time as me. I was assigned to the executive office, while he’d remained in the sales department.

I stood frozen, clutching the file. Charlotte gave me a curious look. “Is there something else?”

“May I ask why I wasn’t chosen?”

She seemed surprised by my directness. “There’s no reason. You’re not the right fit.”

I pressed on. “In what way am I not the right fit?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face.

“The new company needs someone who understands sales, someone bold and innovative. You’re conservative, detail-oriented. You’re fine for administrative work, but you’re not suited for market development.”

“But I…”

“That’s enough. The matter is closed. My decision is final. Your job is to execute it.”

Her face hardened, and she looked down at her documents, dismissing me.

The conversation was over.

Charlotte was a notoriously picky person with a thousand unspoken rules. She liked her water at exactly 113 degrees Fahrenheit, her coffee black, her jackets exclusively black. Even her laptop had to be positioned at a precise angle. For three years, I had carefully observed her every habit, terrified of breaking one of her rules.

And all it had earned me was being called “too focused on details.”

My heart went cold.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to speak again.

“Ms. Monroe, there’s one more thing to report.”

“Speak.”

“You asked me to speak with my brother. I’ve asked for his opinion.”

Her expression softened slightly, and she looked up at me again.

“What did he say?”

“He said yes.”

The corners of Charlotte’s mouth tilted upward. “Good. Send him my contact.”

Then she reconsidered. “Actually, no. Send me his. I’ll add him myself.”