The next week was a blur of flashes and fake smiles.
Clara Miller was gone. Mrs. Clara Sterling was born.
The office was a minefield. She was promoted to Senior Lead on the Vanguard project. The whispers followed her everywhere. Gold digger. Sleeping her way to the top. The Substitute.
She was in the breakroom, making coffee, when Julian walked in. He was handsome in a slimy way, always smiling like he knew a secret.
"Congrats on the promotion, Clara," he said, leaning against the counter. "Sebastian seems... satisfied."
"I'm qualified for the job, Julian," Clara said stiffly.
"Oh, I know. But let's be honest. It helps that you have the look." He tapped his own chest. "The 0825 look."
Clara's hand shook, spilling hot coffee on her wrist. "What do you know about the tattoo?"
"I know it's not for you," Julian winked. "Vivienne is coming back next week, you know. Just a heads up. Don't get too comfortable in the big house."
Clara felt the familiar sting of insecurity.
"Julian."
Sebastian's voice cracked like a whip. He was standing in the doorway. He didn't look at Julian. He looked at Clara's red, scalded wrist.
He walked over, took her hand, and thrust it under the cold water tap.
"Get out, Julian," Sebastian said calmly.
"Just chatting, boss." Julian raised his hands and left.
Sebastian dried her hand with a paper towel. His touch was gentle, at odds with his angry face.
"Come to my office."
In the office, he sat her down. "I have a new NDA for you. Regarding Julian. You are not to speak to him without me present."
"You can't control who I talk to!" Clara snapped. "I have a life outside of you. I have friends. I have..."
"Mark Evans?" Sebastian interrupted. He pulled a file out of his drawer.
It was a dossier. Surveillance photos of Clara's college graduation. And a recent report on Mark Evans, Adjunct Professor.
"I had my team run a background check on everyone in your social circle the moment you signed the contract," Sebastian said, tossing a photo of Mark onto the desk. "Mark Evans. Currently under investigation for plagiarism as of this morning."
Clara stood up. "You did that? He's innocent! He's just a friend!"
"You said he was your lover," Sebastian said, his voice hard. "So I removed the competition."
"You're a monster," Clara whispered.
The door opened.
An older woman walked in. She wore Chanel and a look of permanent disapproval. Eleanor Sterling. Sebastian's mother.
She looked at Clara like she was a piece of gum on her shoe.
"So," Eleanor said, dropping her purse on the sofa. "This is the girl?"
Clara felt the air leave her lungs.
Sebastian stood up. He walked around the desk and put his hand on the small of Clara's back.
"Mother," he said, his voice firm but controlled. "This is Clara. My wife. I expect you to treat her with the same respect you expect from others."
Eleanor laughed, a brittle sound. "Oh, Sebastian. Stop playing house. Vivienne lands on Tuesday. We all know how this ends."
Clara felt Sebastian's grip on her back tighten. Not in anger, but... in tension.
"Vivienne is history," Sebastian said.
"Is she?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you covered the tattoo?"
