The atmosphere at Vanguard Design was toxic. Ever could taste it in the air the moment she stepped off the elevator.
She walked to her cubicle. Her desk was a disaster zone. Her sketches-weeks of work-were soaked in brown liquid. A puddle of coffee dripped steadily onto the carpet.
Zoe was leaning against the filing cabinet, buffing her nails.
"Oops," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I tripped. Clumsy me."
Ever's hands curled into fists at her sides. She wanted to scream. She wanted to grab Zoe by her perfect blonde hair and slam her face into the desk.
But she didn't. She couldn't afford to lose this job. It was her only connection to the outside world, her only source of income that wasn't directly monitored by Garrick (or so she thought).
"It's fine," Ever said, her voice dead. "I have backups."
She didn't have backups.
Her desk phone rang.
"Line 1," Miles called out from his office, his door open. He was watching her.
Ever picked up. "This is Ever."
"Quit."
Garrick's voice was abrupt.
"What?"
"Miles told me what that bitch did to your work. I won't have it. Pack your things. You're done."
"I am not quitting," Ever hissed, turning her back to Zoe. "This is my job, Garrick. It's the only thing that's mine."
"Everything you have is mine," Garrick corrected calmly. "Including the chair you're sitting in. I own the building, Ever. Quit, or I'll have Miles fire you."
"You are unbelievable."
Ever slammed the phone down. The plastic receiver rattled in its cradle.
Silence descended on the office. Everyone stared. No one hung up on Garrick Head.
Zoe laughed. "Trouble in paradise? Did Daddy cut off the allowance?"
"Go to hell, Zoe," Ever muttered, grabbing a roll of paper towels to sop up the coffee.
"Without him, you're nothing," Zoe sneered, stepping closer. "You're just a foster rat in a designer dress."
The insult stung because it was true.
At 5:00 PM, a roar echoed from the street below. A low, mechanical growl that vibrated the windows.
Ever looked down. A Bugatti Veyron, black and lethal, was parked in the loading zone.
Miles leaned against the hood, wearing sunglasses, looking like a movie star. A crowd had already gathered.
Zoe squealed. "Is that for me? I matched with him on Raya last week!"
She rushed to the window, preening.
Ever grabbed her purse and headed for the stairs, trying to sneak out the back. But Miles saw her through the glass lobby doors.
"Ever!" he shouted. His voice carried over the traffic.
Ever froze on the sidewalk.
"Get in!" Miles yelled, opening the passenger door. "Garrick says we're going ring shopping!"
The street went silent. Her coworkers, pressed against the glass, gasped. Zoe's face turned a mottled shade of purple.
"Ring shopping?" someone whispered. "He's proposing?"
Ever marched over to the car, her face burning. "You are enjoying this way too much," she hissed at Miles.
"Garrick said you were having a bad day," Miles grinned, revving the engine. "He told me to come make a scene. Did it work?"
"I hate you both."
Ever got in. As they pulled away, she saw a familiar Porsche parked across the street. Spencer Cole was behind the wheel. He wasn't smiling. He was typing furiously on his phone.
Ding.
Garrick's phone, miles away in a boardroom, lit up.
Spencer: Your bird is hopping into Miles's car. Looks cozy.
Miles drove them to a private members' club on the Upper East Side. "Garrick is meeting us here. Drinks first, then the jeweler."
They got out. Spencer Cole was already there, leaning against the entrance pillars, smoking a cigar. He must have followed them.
"Well, well," Spencer drawled, blowing smoke in Ever's direction. "If it isn't the community chest."
Ever stopped. "Excuse me?"
Spencer smirked, stepping into her personal space. He smelled of brandy and entitlement. "Garrick's done with you, right? That's why you're with Miles? How much for a night, sweetheart? I've always wondered if the goods were worth the price."
He reached out, his hand moving toward her face.
Her blood turned to ice.
"Spencer, back off," Miles warned, stepping forward.
"Relax, Miles. I just want to sample the merchandise."
Spencer's fingers were an inch from Ever's cheek.
