Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Solenn
Standing in front of my closet, I was starting to question every single life decision I had ever made.
This wasn’t just picking an outfit. This was choosing armor. The right outfit could make or break my first day at Spencer & Co., and more importantly, it could determine how long I survived Maverick Spencer’s reign of terror.
I crossed my arms, scanning the racks of clothes like they held the secrets of the universe. “Alright,” I muttered to myself, pulling out a navy blue dress. “This says I’m competent but fun. The problem? It’s probably too fun. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who appreciates ‘fun’.”
I threw it onto the growing pile on my bed and grabbed another. A fitted black pencil dress with a sharp blazer. I held it up, tilting my head. “This screams I can handle a ruthless CEO… but also kind of makes me look like I’m attending a corporate funeral.”
I sighed and pulled out another option—bright pink. A structured, elegant blazer with matching trousers. It gave off strong Legally Blonde meets Devil Wears Prada energy, which normally I’d love, but…
I held it up against my reflection. “Do I really want my first impression to say, I own a small dog and believe in the power of manifestation?”
I groaned, tossing it aside and reaching for the next option. A gray turtleneck with a sleek black skirt. Safe. Simple. Serious.
I frowned at my reflection. “If I wear this, I’ll be his next victim in the boardroom.”
The pile of rejected outfits on my bed was growing, and my patience was rapidly declining.
“Okay, Solenn, get it together.” I took a deep breath, eyeing the chaos. “You’re going to be working under a man known for his lack of soul. The last thing you need is to show up looking like you own a unicorn-themed bullet journal.”
After another ten minutes of painful deliberation, I finally settled on something sharp yet effortless—a fitted black dress with subtle gold buttons, paired with a blazer that said professional but whispered stylish.
Satisfied but still slightly panicked, I plopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow was the beginning of something big. The kind of job that either catapulted me to success… or broke my soul into tiny pieces.
My phone rang, yanking me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen—Mom.
I sighed, answering it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Solenn,” she said immediately like she had been waiting for this call. “I just finished talking to Tita Grace, and she told me her daughter got promoted at her law firm. A law firm, Solenn.”
I rolled my eyes. “And you felt the need to tell me this because…?”
“Well,” she said, as if it were obvious. “She’s twenty-six. Just a year younger than you. And she’s already on track to becoming a partner.”
I flopped onto my back. “Mom. Please tell me you didn’t call me just to compare me to some random girl.”
“She’s not random. You played with her at family reunions when you were kids.”
“That was one time,” I groaned. “And I think she threw a juice box at my face.”
Mom sighed. “That’s not the point, anak. The point is, you’re getting older. You can’t just keep floating around from job to job. You need stability.”
I sat up, picking at a thread on my blazer. “Actually… I just got a job.”
There was a brief pause. “You what?”
I smirked. “I got a job. A real job. Full-time, fancy office, important title. The whole package.”
Mom gasped. “Solenn! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I hesitated. Because I knew exactly what was coming.
“Where?” she asked. “What company?”
I cleared my throat. “Uh… Spencer & Co.”
Silence.
Dead, absolute silence.
Then, “Maverick Spencer?”
I winced. “Yeah.”
Mom made a strangled noise. “The ruthless businessman? The one who allegedly fired someone through a text message?”
I frowned. “Okay, I highly doubt that happened.”
“But it could,” she said dramatically. “Do you know what people say about him?”
I rolled onto my stomach, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it. “That he’s demanding, terrifying, and impossible to work for? Yeah, I may have heard something along those lines.”
“And you took the job?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “It pays well.”
Mom sighed heavily, and I could practically hear her shaking her head. “Bea! Lucas! Your sister got a job under Maverick Spencer!”
I groaned. “Mom, don’t?—”
Too late. My younger sister’s voice came through the phone, full of mischief. “Wait, the Maverick Spencer? The one who makes people cry?”
“Allegedly,” I corrected.
Lucas laughed. “How long do we think she lasts? I’m saying a week.”
Bea snorted. “No, no. Solenn is stubborn. Two weeks.”
I gasped. “Wow, the faith in this family is truly inspiring.”
Mom sighed again, more dramatically this time. “I just don’t want you to get eaten alive, anak.”
I grinned. “Relax, Mom. Worst-case scenario? I quit, move to a remote island, and sell coconuts.”
Bea cackled. “Honestly, sounds more stable than your job history so far.”
I scowled. “I hate you.”
Lucas snickered. “We love you, too.”
Mom muttered something about praying for my safety, which felt a little extreme, but I let her have her moment. After another five minutes of genuine motherly concern, she finally let me go, making me promise I’d call if anything felt off.
I hung up, tossed my phone aside, and stood in front of my mirror.
I stared at my reflection, my outfit neatly laid out behind me, my thoughts racing.
Maverick Spencer wasn’t going to intimidate me.
I squared my shoulders, pointing at myself. “You got this.”
I exhaled.
“…probably.”