Chapter Eleven
O n Friday morning, my new ID was waiting for me at Pulse360’s reception. I held it as I walked toward the elevator, considering whether to place it in my Dior purse since I wouldn’t be wearing it for long.
Today, I wore Violet Stroud, rocking a sleek pinstripe suit, a silk blouse, and a short skirt paired with heels—corporate vibes, but still me.
Not that any of that mattered now.
The weight of the world pressed in, and no matter how hard I tried to not let it affect me, everything around me felt like it was crumbling into chaos.
Not being able to stay here was heartbreaking.
One minute, I’d been chatting with a cute friend of Cameron’s in the kitchen, showing off my chess skills to Greyson, and in the next my brother had escorted me to a quiet corner and told me to quit the new job.
I stepped into the elevator and punched the button with the same anger I had felt in that moment.
Then I drew in a calming breath.
This wasn’t how I’d envisioned this week going. I’d played out how my life might look, and this embarrassing debacle wasn’t it. I’d literally interviewed here just yesterday, and now I would seem like a person who couldn’t make a good decision.
Cameron had insisted I couldn’t stay—no further discussion permitted.
The applicant from Yale would take my place.
With no official letter of an offer, and no evidence I had accepted the position, it would be a word-of-mouth situation. Still, hearing it from Jewel Hadley herself was a big deal.
If rumors circulated about how I had blown things up on my first day, I may never get another job.
When I reached my floor, the receptionist directed me to the staff room. I went in there, ready to give myself a few seconds to rally my courage to face HR. I felt uncomfortable, but I’d wanted to do this in person since I hoped to keep this under control and avoid having my name associated with this mess.
Inside the staffroom, a fancy dessert box sat on the lunch table—from Elysian Crust.
I placed my handbag on a chair.
Lifting the lid, I peered in at the indulgent cream pie that would melt in my mouth and let out a sigh, thinking how much fun it would be to share. This was going to be harder than I imagined.
A notecard was placed beside it.
I lifted the envelope, peeled it open and pulled out the gold embossed card:
Willa,
Welcome to Pulse360. We’re thrilled to have you on board!
—Jewel Hadley
I cringed at the warm welcome and felt the urge to burst into tears.
Why was this place so bad?
My gut told me that Cameron wanted me to work for Cole Tea, and me being here would distract from that in every conceivable way. Maybe they’d assumed I’d not get the job and had humored me when I scurried off for an interview.
It was so unfair.
A young woman appeared in the doorway and brightly told me to follow her.
That cake had thrown me off. Eating a slice now would be considered rude. Especially after I walked out the front door in ten minutes, never to return.
Grabbing my purse, I left the breakroom and followed her through the newsroom all the way to a cubicle. It was small but inviting, with soft lighting. Though cramped, it had a cozy, organized charm, offering just enough space to focus.
“This is where you’ll be,” she said, her hands on the high-backed office chair. “Not bad, right?”
I nodded and she walked away.
I felt eyes looking my way, and blushed, feeling self-conscious. The two cubicles on either side were empty, but personal items on each desk told me someone would be back soon.
I nervously pulled out the chair and sat, hands trembling, anger in my belly that Cameron had told me to quit.
This place felt so right—leaving it felt wrong.
This job wasn’t just about following my dream—I needed to prove to my family I could make it without using the family name. More than this, being distracted helped me forget Hugo.
I reached for the blue folder on my desk—correction, the desk. The place I’d sit for all of five minutes as I rallied my courage to quit.
Inside the folder was a list of everything I needed to complete on my first day, including a stack of forms. One asked for my address, which would have given away I was currently staying with my brother. I continued to rifle through them as though I’d not been forbidden to be here.
This is what I’d been destined to do. I wanted to find stories that appealed to women. Wanted to spend my days working on issues that inspired others. Unravel a compassionate story that would bring light to an important issue, one that I could make a difference by uncovering.
But I would totally humiliate myself before I’d even created a company email.
I noticed a blur to my left and then, from over my shoulder, a bunch of mail scattered on my desk. I peered up to see the same guy who had bumped into me yesterday. Only this time, he was creepily close. He chucked a box, and it barely missed my face, rolled and landed with a thud on my desk against the divider.
Riled by his rudeness, I leaned back. “Excuse me!”
Ignoring me, he continued, dropping off mail to the cubicles all the way down the aisle. But with the other staff, he offered a polite word before he threw the mail onto their desks.
When he looked my way, he gave me a hostile stare.
Leaning back in my chair, I waited for him to finish delivering mail to the rest of the floor. Then, I pushed up and followed him into the hallway.
“Hey,” I called after him.
He turned, and the way he looked at me sent a shiver of uneasiness up my spine.
“Why the rude attitude?” I asked. “Do you have a problem with me?”
He looked me up and down. “No.”
“You threw my mail at me.”
“I have a lot to deliver.” He scowled. “You’re new.”
“That may be the case but treating people with courtesy isn’t hard.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
“I remember you.” I stepped closer.
“Don’t remember you.”
Triggered, I felt that unsettling confusion of realizing someone doesn’t like you yet being unable to understand why.
He looked smug. “Don’t you have a story you’re meant to be working on? Something special for them?”
Narrowing my gaze, I asked, “You’re from the mailroom?”
“Yeah,” he said, annoyed. “Why?”
“Well,” I turned and glanced toward my desk, “if we’re going to be working together, we should try to get along. We’ll see each other every day.”
“Don’t you have to get back to your big story? Maybe a local restaurant changed a menu. Or some gardener has a particularly large vegetable they want showcased.” He circled a finger. “Pet of the week.”
I forced a smile. “Have a great day.”
Walking away was the right decision. Didn’t need to be seen as a problem employee on my first day. Who was I kidding, this was my last day. Staying felt wrong now that I didn’t have my brother’s support.
Back at my desk, I lifted the box, and turned it around and examined the packaging, wondering who it was from. I didn’t trust the mail guy. He could have put something awful in there. As I turned it around to examine it, I saw no return address. I ripped open the brown paper and peeked inside to see a velvet box.
I glanced around to see if anyone was watching me open the thing. Everyone around me seemed super busy.
Cautiously, I lifted the velvet box lid and choked down the sense of awe, regretting how unceremoniously it had been handled.
I removed the object from its velvet base and held it reverently, mesmerized by the stunning snow globe. A delicate chandelier was suspended inside, and it made me smile instantly. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I gave it a gentle shake, and the gold flakes swirled around the chandelier, sparkling like tiny stars.
Carefully, I checked to see if it was undamaged, turning it around to view the glass from every angle.
Who gave me this?
Carefully, I set it down.
Movement flashed on my right, as a young woman plopped down in the seat next to me, her cubicle super close.
“Wow, that’s gorgeous,” she said. “Boyfriend?”
I forced a smile. “No.”
“Who then?”
“Brothers,” I said, tucking it away. “Probably.”
“Are they single?” She laughed.
Self-consciously, I wrapped it back up and nudged the box to the side.
She turned to face me and held out her hand. “I’m Chloe.”
I shook her hand. “Willa.”
“Didn’t I see you yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“It usually takes weeks for onboarding.”
“I’m not sure why…”
She studied my Dior purse with an intrigued expression. “Do you have a background in journalism?”
“Just graduated from Brown.” I beamed at the thought of making a friend. “You?”
“This is my first job, too.” She thinned her lips. “Put myself through school.”
“Oh, that’s great.” I slumped, a little embarrassed that I hadn’t been more discreet.
She swiveled toward me, looking confident. “You’ll like it here.”
I gave a nod, wanting to say I believed that I would, but also, poised to spring to my feet and scurry off toward HR.
“Want to go for drinks after?” Chloe asked.
“After work?” I thought about it. “Maybe.”
“I see you’ve met Chad.”
I grimaced. “Is he like that with you?”
“He was promised a move to this department.”
“A junior journalist position.” I flinched. “Don’t tell me he thinks I’m in his seat.”
“He’s been passed over because of his attitude.”
I rested my head in my hands, mortified as everything became obvious now. He was just plain rude and until he had a personality shift, he would stay in the mailroom.
“Is it true Jewel personally interviewed you?” Chloe looked impressed.
“How did you… Joe told you?” I realized.
“It’s who you know.”
“I’d never met Jewel before yesterday,” I said in my defense.
Something on her computer screen distracted Chloe and she clicked an email. She typed quickly, her fingers flying across the keys, a clear sign of her speed on the keyboard.
Jewel had to know I was a Cole. She’d hired my name, not me.
Guilt, shame, and the weight of a thousand unspoken expectations dragged me into a depression. I glanced around as though I could feel everyone staring at me. As though the very air had grown thick with the bitter proof of my privilege.
“What are you working on?” I asked Chloe, to soothe the moment.
“Jewel put me on this. I’m researching a bachelor, and so far, his background is weird.”
“Weird?”
“He doesn’t have a birth certificate.”
“Maybe he was born in another country?”
“Adopted, I think. But there’s no adoption certificate either.”
A long silence followed, thick with an unsettling sense of mystery.
“It’s like he…doesn’t exist, not in any official way,” she murmured. “There’s no trace of him until he turns up in Oxford, England.”
“So he was born in England?”
“No, we had our foreign affairs check on it. He just turned up at the university with everything paid for, but he is American.”
Thespace felt colder, somehow. “Are you going to interview him?I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“I’m no-contact right now, waiting on permission to pounce. But something doesn’t add up.”
“Let me know if you want any help with it.” Which was a strange thing to say. I was supposed to be quitting.
She smirked. “This one’s going to get me noticed.”
“Why?”
“The press will be all over him next week, but I’ll be the one with the scoop.”
“What’s happening next week?”
“An event to showcase his work. I’ve been given a press pass. But I’ll hide it, on the day.”
The idea of hiding a press pass felt a bit deceptive, but I didn’t want to say so.
My phone lit up with a text and it was from Henry.
“My brother,” I told Chloe when she looked over. “He’s invited me to dinner tomorrow.” It made me smile because I couldn’t wait to see him.
“Ask him about the snow globe.” She brightened. “Where are you having dinner?”
I hesitated, wondering if sharing the location was wise.
She looked at my phone. “Prima?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “Unless he booked three months ago, you guys won’t get a table.”
I set my phone down with a sigh. “Henry’s not…” My words faltered. He wasn’t just Henry—he was the CEO of a dynasty, and by that simple, irrefutable fact, so was I.
The weight of the truth settled deep, crashing against my chest. I was more privileged than I had ever wanted to admit, whether I liked it or not.