Olivia’s POV
I stood in front of Maxwell Wellington’s imposing desk, my mouth agape. The words he’d just spoken seed to echo in the spacious office, bouncing off the floor-to-ceiling windows. Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly.
"Excuse , sir. I don’t think I heard you correctly," I managed.
Maxwell leaned back in his leather chair, his piercing green eyes studying with that sa intensity he’d used in his Dr. Heart’s office. His expression was downright cold.
"I said I’ve gone through your portfolio, and I’ve realized the position of junior associate is too much for you," he repeated slowly, as if speaking to a child. "You’re not good enough."
The words hit like a punch to the face. I felt my knees threaten to buckle, but I locked them in place, refusing to show weakness. Not good enough? Three top partners had analyzed my resu and confird I was exceptional. What was this asshole talking about?
"Sir, I don’t understand," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "My work on the gan rger has been exemplary. Alex himself complinted my work. Including your brother, Mr Damien."
Maxwell’s lips curved into a smile that held no warmth whatsoever. "Alex is... generous with his praise. Perhaps too generous. Sa with my brother. I, however, deal in reality, not flattery."
His intense eyes assessed slowly, from head to toe, then he continued, "Your legal knowledge is adequate, I’ll grant you that. But being a junior associate at Wellington and Sons requires more than just book smarts. It requires presence, authority, the ability to command respect from clients and opposing counsel alike."
I felt heat rising in my chest, filled with anger and hatred for this man. "And you don’t think I possess those qualities?"
He blinked. Like the question surprised him. "Do you?"
At that mont, very instinct scread at to defend myself, to list my accomplishnts, to prove him wrong. But sothing in his expression made hesitate.
"I believe my work speaks for itself," I said carefully.
"Your work is competent," he conceded with a dismissive wave. "But competence isn’t enough. We need excellence. We need soone who can walk into a room and own it, who can make million-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, who can intimidate opposing counsel with nothing more than their presence. You’re just a..." He stared up and down again, "soft little man."
A what? A soft litt... How’s that my fault? I’m only but a girl. A girl in love! I wanted to scream at him. Instead, I squared my shoulders, drawing on every ounce of the inner strength I had in .
"With all due respect, sir, I think you’re underestimating ."
Maxwell’s eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh yeah? Tell , Mr. Hopton, when was the last ti you closed a major deal? When did you last argue a case in court? What’s your track record with client retention?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. He knew damn well that as a junior associate, I wouldn’t have been given those opportunities yet. It was a trap, and I’d walked right into it.
"I’m a new hire," I said through gritted teeth. "Those opportunities haven’t been..."
"Exactly my point," he interrupted, "Which is why I’m offering you an alternative arrangent."
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Alternative arrangent?"
"Yes. I’m prepared to offer you a position as my personal assistant. You’ll work directly under , learn the ropes, observe how real deals are made. Think of it as... an extended internship."
The words hit like a slap. Personal assistant? I had a fucking law degree. I’d graduated with good grades. I’d passed the bar exam on my first try. And he wanted to fetch his coffee and schedule his etings?
"You want to be your secretary?" I asked, not bothering to hide the disgust in my voice.
"Executive assistant," he corrected mildly. "And if you prove yourself capable, if I’m convinced of your performance after, say, six months, I’ll consider promoting you back to junior associate."
Consider. The condescension in that single word made my blood boil.
"This is ridiculous," I snapped, my composure finally cracking. "I didn’t go to law school to be anyone’s assistant. I was hired as a junior associate, and that’s the position I intend to fill."
Maxwell’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed a flicker of amusent in his eyes.
"I’m afraid that position is no longer available to you," he said. "The partners and I have discussed it, and we’ve made our decision."
"The partners?" I repeated incredulously. "Renly complinted my work just yesterday. Alex specifically requested for the gan rger. Are you telling they’ve all suddenly changed their minds?"
"I’m telling you that I outrank them all," Maxwell said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what I say goes."
It dawned on right then that this man wasn’t doing this because of my qualifications, but for personal reasons best known to him. Either he wanted to showcase his authority over , or he actually does know my true identity.
"This is about your ego," I said, abandoning all pretense of being cordial. "You’re just abusing your power to..."
"Mr. Hopton," Maxwell interrupted, his voice sharp as a blade. "I’d be very careful about your next words. Accusations like that can have serious consequences for your career."
Oh now he was threatening ? Not only did he downgrade my qualifications and intellect, he’s also threatening my entire law career? I stood there, chest heaving with suppressed rage, realizing just how trapped I truly was. He had cornered, and we both knew it.
"So what’s it going to be?" Maxwell asked, leaning forward slightly. "Executive assistant, or the door?"
I stared at him, this infuriating man held my future in his hands, and every fiber of my being wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his assistant position - up his ass - But then I thought about the risk I took coming here, my rent, my mum...
"How do I know you won’t just string along for six months and then fire anyway?" I asked through clenched teeth.
Maxwell smiled - the first genuine expression of pleasure I’d seen from him since entering his office. "You don’t. You’ll just have to trust ."
Pffft... I almost scoffed out loud. Trust him? The sa man who doubles as a love doctor and lawyer. Over my dead body.
"I need ti to think about it," I said finally.
"You have until tomorrow morning," Maxwell replied, already turning his attention back to his computer screen. "Let Patricia know your decision. Leave my office."
Dismissed. Like a servant. Like nothing.
I turned and practically fled his office, my whole body trembling with anger and humiliation.
I needed air. I needed space. I needed to scream.
Instead, I found myself running toward the restroom, my vision blurred with tears of rage and frustration. I pushed through the door to the won’s restroom - my one safe haven in this male dominated fortress - and locked myself in the farthest stall.
Only then did I allow myself to break down.
I collapsed onto the toilet seat, tears streaming down my face like a broken woman.
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