Soon enough, though, I had no room to think about anything else.
Work in the product division was far busier than the kitchen.
And the worst part was, I didn't know how to do any of it.
I understood how to balance seasonings so a dish came out best. But design, development, testing, the language of the product division might as well have been another world.
The product manager called me into her office, pressing her fingers to her brow, looking at me with a kind of weariness. "Greta, do you understand? This position was supposed to go to a top graduate from a top university. She was brilliant. But because of you, we had to let her go. So could you please put a little more into your work?"
I dropped my head, humiliated.
But that wasn't the thing that broke me.
On my fourth day on the job, an uninvited guest came to the company.
A very beautiful girl.
Heels clicking, an Hermès bag on her shoulder, she walked all the way up to my desk.
She pulled off her sunglasses, tossed them aside, and said to me, "Miss Fox, is being a mistress fun?"
Then she glanced at my computer screen and let out a scornful little laugh. "You can't even write a proposal. I really don't know where you got the nerve to beg Walter Henson to pull strings and hand you this job."
I wanted to defend myself, but she gave me no chance at all. She just spun around and called out loudly, "Who's the manager here? You'll actually keep an employee who's someone's mistress?"
The product manager came first, then the director, then the vice president.
The product manager and the director only tried to coax her into settling it privately. The vice president came in bowing and scraping, all forced smiles, calling her Miss Pruitt.
In an instant I understood. These were the people from those powerful circles.
The kind of people Walter thought were worthy of him.
I clenched my fists and forced myself to explain. "I never contacted Walter Henson. The job was his own decision, not mine."
"We're already divorced. I don't want anything more to do with him either. Please, keep him in line."
Prudence Pruitt looked at me with contempt. "There's a limit to dreaming, you know. No one in the circle has ever heard of Walter Henson having a wife."
My face went pale. Walter had never brought me to a single one of his gatherings. It was true, hardly anyone knew I existed.
Seeing that I said nothing, Prudence lifted her chin at me. "Here's what we'll do, Miss Fox. If you can find someone to prove you're Walter Henson's ex-wife, I'll leave you alone. But if you can't..."
"You record a video, say you're a shameless mistress, and post it on your social media feed. How about that?"
The words had barely left her mouth when a voice rang out, faster than mine.
"I'll vouch for her."
