10. Be（TROTH）ed
VERENA
10
Sitting at my desk with the uneasy feeling of being a spy in enemy territory, I couldn’t help but let my gaze drift over to Jae’s office. The blinds were closed tight, a surefire sign that the legal and HR teams were probably drawing up battle plans instead of mere contracts. Jae hadn’t so much as looked in my direction, a clear indicator of the impending storm. Under the force of his silence, I found myself tapping my heel against the floor, hoping someone, anyone, would decode my distress signal.
The usual flurry of tasks Jae would have me juggle was conspicuously absent today. He had practically erected a Do Not Disturb sign the size of a billboard over his office door. The one fleeting glimpse I caught of him earlier had done nothing to ease my nerves; if anything, the bags under his eyes and his tight-lipped expression were a testament to the severity of the situation.
When the door to Jae’s office finally opened, releasing the legal and HR team like a flock of pigeons startled by a car alarm, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Their hurried exit did nothing to soothe my fraying nerves.
“Verena, come to my office. Immediately.” Jae’s voice was sharp.
With a deep breath that did little to steady my racing heart, I made my way to his office, half expecting to find a gladiator arena instead of the familiar workspace. “Okay,” I managed to squeak out, my voice betraying the false bravado I was desperately clinging to.
As I entered, Jae motioned for me to take a seat, his demeanor as welcoming as a tax audit. He slid a document across the table with all the casualness of someone handing over a ticking time bomb. “Here’s your contract,” he announced.
My eyes scanned the document, trying to make sense of the legal gibberish that seemed designed to confuse rather than clarify. Jae cleared his throat, launching into an explanation.
“According to Clause 6.72 of Section four,” he began, his tone taking on the cadence of a lawyer who had memorized the entire legal code for fun, “you possess proprietary information on Project Eagle Stone, an ongoing venture of paramount importance to our strategic objectives. Given the project’s current status—specifically, its deviation from the projected timeline due to unforeseen complications in the deployment phase—your departure would precipitate a significant disruption to its successful completion.”
I blinked, trying to process the verbal labyrinth he’d just constructed. “Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Jae?” I asked, half expecting him to pull out a whiteboard and start drawing diagrams.
He plowed on, undeterred. “Furthermore, your intimate familiarity with the project’s inner workings and the consequential potential for competitive disadvantage necessitate the enforcement of the six-month notice period stipulated by your contract, thereby legally binding you to continue your employment until such a time as Project Eagle Stone reaches a satisfactory conclusion.”
“Six months?” His words shocked me out of the daze his speech had induced. “You can’t be serious. I can’t stay here for another six months!”
“Unfortunately, the contractual obligations as outlined are unequivocal,” he replied, his expression as rigid as his tone. “The continuation of your tenure is not only advisable but mandated.”
“Are you kidding me?” I could feel my frustration boiling over, the absurdity of the situation reaching peak levels. “I cannot stay here for another six months, Jae. I’m at my wit’s end.”
His next question caught me off guard, a slight crack in his CEO armor. “Is it really that bad?”
The room was charged with conflict, an invisible chasm widening between us. Here we were, caught in a standoff not just over contractual obligations but over the very nature of our working relationship. His long-winded, jargon-filled spiel, designed to bewilder rather than explain, had done its job, leaving me more confused and frustrated than before.
“Bad?” I scoffed. I reached into my briefcase and pulled out the most incriminating piece of evidence I possessed—a well-worn notebook, its pages a testament to the insanity that had become my everyday life. Flipping it open, I prepared to unleash the full extent of my grievances, each entry meticulously noted with times, dates, and locations—a chronicle of absurdity that would make any sane person question the nature of their employment.
“Ah, here’s a memorable one,” I started, the sarcasm in my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “February fourteenth, 9:32 a.m., you had me charter a private jet because you needed to pick up a specific type of tulips for Auntie—tulips, Jae, from the Netherlands—because apparently, they signify a deep and ancient bond in some book you read.”
I glanced up to see Jae’s reaction, but before he could speak, I plunged forward. “Oh, and let’s not overlook April seventh, 11:17 p.m., when you made me coordinate a midnight meeting in Tokyo. You insisted I sit through a three-hour dinner with a man who thought business negotiations included proposing a strategic marriage alliance.”
Jae opened his mouth, likely to mount some defense, but I was having none of it. “And before you say anything,” I cut him off, flipping to another page, “do you remember August twenty-third? When you sent me on a wild goose chase across three states to secure a limited edition gaming console? Because you needed it for a potential business partner’s kid, and it had to be delivered personally by me to demonstrate the company’s commitment to personal relationships.”
His expression faltered. “Is that what you’ve been scribbling in your notepad? Grievances against me?” he asked, a note of incredulity in his voice.
I met his gaze squarely, my frustration unabated. “This is the fourth notebook, Jae. The fourth!” I emphasized the weight of those countless, ludicrous tasks bearing down on me once more.
“The fourth?” he echoed.
“Yes, the fourth!” I exclaimed, my voice rising in pitch. “Every absurd request, every over-the-top demand. Do you want to hear about the time you had me arrange a private viewing of the Crown Jewels because you were considering incorporating regal elements into the company’s branding?”
I didn’t wait for his response, too caught up in the absurdity of it all.
“And don’t even get me started on the number of personal dates I’ve had to cancel because of your whims,” I continued, my voice gaining momentum like a runaway train. Flipping through the pages of my notebook, I found the section I’d dedicated to the personal sacrifices I’d made at the altar of Jae’s convenience. “Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we?
“September fourth with Tony Martinez. We planned an arcade date, something I was genuinely looking forward to. But no, I had to leave in the middle of it because you decided you needed an emergency meeting about…what was it again? Oh, yes, the urgent redesign of the company logo that couldn’t possibly wait until morning.”
“I hated him,” Jae cut in. “Never liked his smile. Too smarmy.”
“October twenty-second with Nathan Thompson. We had tickets to the premiere of the movie we’d been dying to see for months. But guess what? I had to bail because you thought it was the perfect time to fly to Los Angeles for a spontaneous brand synergy meeting.”
“He was weird. Never trust a guy who calls himself Nate.”
“January fifteenth with Michael Reed. Dinner at his place, meeting his sister who was visiting from out of town. But oh, I received a text from you saying you felt a sudden inspiration for a new project and needed me there to brainstorm.”
“That guy was a bore. Tried to talk to me about wine for half an hour once.”
“Thanksgiving with Peter Nguyen. I was at dinner with his family, Jae. His family. And I had to leave because you thought that was the ideal moment to renegotiate the terms of a deal that was perfectly fine.”
“He was too nice. People like that always have something to hide.”
“August twenty-first with Ryan Kim. A hiking trip we’d planned for weeks. Canceled because you believed we needed to ‘seize the day’ and review every contract in the third quarter by hand.”
“I hated him. His cologne was way too strong.”
“You’re ludicrous,” I shot back, exasperation and disbelief mingling in my voice. The realization that my personal life had been steamrolled by Jae’s capricious demands was both infuriating and sadly comical.
The room was charged with the tension of our confrontation, years of frustration and missed opportunities hanging heavy between us. As I closed the notebook, the symbol of all my grievances, the absurdity of the situation couldn’t be clearer. My role had morphed from a professional partnership into a bizarre, one-sided dynamic where my personal happiness was repeatedly sacrificed for Jae’s whims.
Pointing directly at him, I let out a challenge. “If you think for one second I’m staying here for six months, you are out of your mind.”
Jae’s response was cold and calculated, a severe departure from the tension-fueled argument we’d been having. “Well, then I hope you’re prepared to pay me half a million dollars in damages, because that’s what you’ll be responsible for if you leave beforehand.”
I gasped in shock. “Half a million? After everything I’ve done for you, you’re willing to sue me for half a million in damages?”
“Yes,” he affirmed, his tone unwavering, “and I will win. My legal team is confident in that.”
“You are ridiculous,” I shot back, the words tasting bitter on my tongue, the incredulity of the situation wrapping around me like a vise.
In a moment charged with an intensity that seemed to warp the very air around us, Jae stormed over to me. The distance closed between us in seconds, and he got in my face, the tension a living entity that buzzed with electricity. My heart hammered in my chest as I looked into his eyes—eyes that seemed to be searching mine for something unfathomable.
His gaze flickered down to my lips, back up to my eyes, a silent question hanging between us, the atmosphere thick with unspoken possibilities. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his next words, waiting for the crackle of the air around us to ignite into an inferno.
“But I do have a way,” he finally said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through the very ground beneath us. “I’ll forgive it, and I won’t make you stay six months if you do one thing for me.”
The proposition hung in the air, a sword suspended by a thread so thin it was nearly invisible. My heart raced, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. “What?” The word barely escaped as a whisper, my defenses crumbling.
And then he delivered the words that would change everything.
“Marry me.”