I returned to my desk, pulse still racing from Vanessa's warning.
Access like that comes with consequences.
What did she mean?
The borrowed shirt? The late-night work session? Or something more specific—like fraudulent approvals and Hendrick Maritime?
I dropped into my chair, willing my breathing to steady.
Don't jump to conclusions, Juliette.
Vanessa had disliked me since the moment I arrived at Ever Holdings. Her territorial behavior around Augustus wasn't exactly subtle.
Suspicious behavior didn't automatically mean involvement in corporate fraud.
Though the timing was oddly convenient.
I headed to the printer to collect Communications' latest revisions, mentally reviewing the updated NTC terminology.
"Apparently, someone from the night shift saw them leaving after midnight."
I froze.
Two employees stood in the nearby alcove, voices low but perfectly audible.
"With Mr. Evans?"
"That's what I heard. And she wasn't even wearing her own blouse."
My stomach dropped.
The borrowed shirt.
I'd completely forgotten that I'd left Ever Tower wearing Augustus's oversized dress shirt after the coffee disaster.
"Seriously?"
"Well, you know how she got the position."
Wonderful.
Two days into my corporate career, and I'd apparently graduated from incompetent heiress to the CEO's secret mistress.
I cleared my throat.
Both employees turned around, faces draining of color.
I smiled sweetly.
"Relax. I spilled coffee on myself. Mr. Evans lent me a clean shirt."
The taller one blinked.
"From his office?"
"Unless Ever Holdings has a secret luxury menswear boutique on the seventieth floor, yes."
They exchanged looks suggesting my explanation had somehow made everything more suspicious.
Brilliant.
Mentioning that Augustus had also stripped off his own coffee-soaked shirt would definitely improve matters.
"Does Mr. Evans regularly keep spare clothing in his office?" the shorter employee ventured.
"He's a CEO. I'm fairly certain he keeps emergency shirts, backup phones, and the souls of underperforming executives in there."
They laughed awkwardly.
"Right. Sorry, Miss Harper."
They practically fled.
I collected my printouts, gripping the pages harder than necessary.
Excellent.
Harper women truly had a gift for self-sabotage.
Late morning found me in the executive lounge, desperately caffeinating.
"You look exhausted."
Jane appeared beside me, holding two coffees. She offered one.
"Peace offering. You've been running on fumes all morning."
"Jane, you're a lifesaver."
"So…" She hesitated. "Are you and Mr. Evans dating?"
I nearly choked.
"What?"
"People are saying you left together after midnight, and he defended you during the morning briefing, and—"
"Jane."
"I'm not judging! It's kind of romantic, actually."
"There's nothing romantic about Augustus Evans. Trust me."
"Wait. You've known him since childhood?"
"Unfortunately."
"And he gave you his shirt?"
"Jane."
"And drove you home?"
"JANE."
She grinned.
"I'm just saying, it sounds like the beginning of a romance novel."
"Then it's a terrible romance novel. The male lead has the emotional range of a quarterly financial statement."
She laughed.
"But seriously, Mr. Evans doesn't usually drive employees home personally."
My stomach twisted.
Because Jane's innocent observations were considerably more dangerous than the gossip.
"Discussing Mr. Evans's private affairs during working hours, Miss Harper?"
Vanessa stood in the lounge entrance.
How long had she been there?
Jane's smile vanished.
"We were discussing an unfortunate coffee accident," I interrupted smoothly. "Nothing scandalous."
Vanessa's gaze flickered toward Jane.
"Professional boundaries are important, Miss Harper. Particularly for employees working closely with senior management."
Her voice was perfectly polite.
And loud enough for nearby employees to hear.
"Absolutely. That's why I generally prefer my workplace scandals to involve stationery."
She didn't smile.
"People are already questioning how you obtained this position. I'd advise you not to give them additional reasons."
The words landed like a slap.
She'd struck a nerve, and she knew it.
"Appearances matter," Vanessa continued. "Especially for the CEO's office. We must remain above gossip."
"Of course," I replied evenly. "I'll remember that."
Vanessa walked away, heels clicking against the marble.
Jane exhaled.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse."
"It's fine."
But my fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
I wasn't sure which bothered me more.
That Vanessa had deliberately humiliated me in front of Jane.
Or that she'd managed to make me question something as innocent as Augustus giving me a ride home.
I returned to my desk, frustration simmering beneath my professional composure.
Two employees passed, voices deliberately lowered.
"—obviously arranged through family connections—"
"—Harper Group and the Evans family have been close for years—"
"—doubt she's actually qualified—"
I stared at my computer screen.
Unlike the shirt rumor, this accusation contained an uncomfortable truth.
My parents had arranged the placement. Augustus initially had little choice but to accept me. And I'd spent years enjoying Harper privileges without considering how others perceived them.
But something had shifted.
For the first time, I wanted to be judged on my actual abilities.
I remembered Augustus publicly recognizing my contribution during the morning briefing.
That recognition had felt more satisfying than any expensive gift I'd received at a society event.
Yes, my father had arranged the job.
Yes, Augustus Evans had probably been blackmailed into accepting me through some complicated combination of family friendship and parental guilt.
But nobody had handed me the correct regulatory information.
Nobody had identified those suspicious procurement approvals for me.
I'd done that myself.
And if people wanted proof I belonged here, I'd give them so much competence they'd choke on it.
I triple-checked the communications revisions and forwarded the corrected draft.
At least there was one thing I could control.
My work.
Then I reached for my coffee.
Cold.
Naturally.
My phone buzzed.
Jane.
Have you seen this???
A second message arrived.
A link to Shorebridge After Dark—an anonymous gossip account notorious for posting about the city's wealthy families.
My stomach dropped.
Half the city's socialites followed that account religiously.
The other half pretended they didn't.
The latest post featured a photograph taken outside Ever Tower last night.
There I was.
Yesterday's skirt. Yesterday's heels.
And Augustus's unmistakably oversized dress shirt.
Beside me stood Augustus Evans himself, opening the passenger door of his Aston Martin.
Of course he'd chosen that exact moment to behave like a gentleman.
The photograph was authentic.
The implication?
Catastrophic.
SHOREBRIDGE AFTER DARK
Spotted: Harper Group's notorious heiress leaving Ever Tower after midnight in an oversized men's shirt.
And who's opening the car door? None other than CEO Augustus Evans himself.
A late-night business meeting? Or something a little more personal?
Looks like corporate benefits have never been better. 👀
Hundreds of comments.
Hundreds of shares.
Already.
I scrolled through the reactions.
Didn't their families arrange her job?
That's one way to climb the corporate ladder.
Honestly, they're kind of cute together.
Cute?
CUTE?
I was experiencing a professional reputation crisis, and strangers were apparently shipping me with my childhood nemesis.
My phone vibrated again.
Camille.
Then my mother.
Oh, fantastic.
My mother probably already had three wedding planners on standby.
Then a third notification appeared.
Augustus Evans.
Come to my office. Now.
I stared at the screen.
I'd survived two days of suspicious contracts, executive meetings, and Vanessa Lin.
But apparently, the greatest threat to my career was a borrowed shirt.
And now the entire city thought I'd slept with my boss.