The CEO's Biggest Mistake

The elevator smelled like expensive cologne and corporate ambition.

I recognized both.

I used to wear that ambition like a second skin, back when I was twenty-three, fresh out of college, convinced that hard work and loyalty were enough to build a life on. Back when I believed in things like trust. Like love. Like Ethan Kane.

That was three years ago.

A lot can change in three years.

The elevator doors slid open on the 40th floor of Kane Industries Tower, and the first thing I noticed was the silence. Then the stares. One by one, heads lifted from computer screens, fingers froze over keyboards, and the entire open-plan office seemed to collectively hold its breath.

I didn't blame them. I was worth staring at.

I smoothed the lapel of my ivory blazer, tailored, sharp, the kind that said I didn't come here to be liked, and stepped out onto the polished marble floor. My heels clicked with every step. Measured. Deliberate. The sound of a woman who had rebuilt herself from nothing and was no longer in a hurry to prove it.

"Miss Sinclair?"

The receptionist, young, wide-eyed, a little flustered, stood up so fast her chair rolled back and hit the desk behind her.

"Yes," I said simply.

"I, welcome. We've been expecting you." She grabbed her tablet, nearly dropped it, caught it. "I'm Lily, Mr. Kane's, I mean, the executive floor receptionist. I'll let Mr. Kane know you've arrived."

I tilted my head slightly. "Tell Mr. Kane I'm settling in first. I'll come to him when I'm ready."

Lily blinked. Twice. Like the sentence didn't compute.

I gave her a small, polite smile, the kind that leaves no room for argument, and turned toward the corner office that had been assigned to me. The one with the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline. The one the board had given me over the objections of a man who had never once, in his entire life, been overruled.

Until now.

My office was exactly as I had requested.

Minimalist. Clean. A wide glass desk, a white orchid in the corner, and a view that made you feel like you were standing on top of the world. I set my bag down, walked to the window, and looked out at the city below.

Three years ago, I had looked at this same skyline from a much lower floor. I had been nobody then, just a sharp girl from Brooklyn with a scholarship degree and a hunger that the wealthy people in this building wouldn't understand if they tried. I had clawed my way up to personal assistant to the CEO, telling myself it was just the beginning.

I had been right. It was just the beginning.

But not in the way I imagined.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Just one. Then I opened them, straightened my spine, and turned away from the window.

Sentiment was a luxury I couldn't afford today.

I had been in my office exactly eleven minutes when the door opened without a knock.

I didn't turn around. I already knew who it was. I could feel it, that particular shift in the air, like a drop in temperature, like the moment before a storm.

"You have a lot of nerve."

His voice.

Three years and it still did something inconvenient to my pulse. Low. Controlled. The kind of voice that was used to being obeyed without repetition.

I took my time turning around.

Ethan Kane stood in the doorway of my office looking exactly like the universe's cruelest joke. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's rent. His jaw was sharper than I remembered. There were faint shadows under his grey eyes, the eyes that had once looked at me like I was something worth keeping.

He wasn't looking at me like that now.

He was looking at me like a problem he intended to solve.

"Mr. Kane." I clasped my hands in front of me, my voice perfectly even. "I don't recall scheduling a meeting."

Something flickered in his eyes. Gone before I could name it.

"You don't belong here," he said.

"The board disagrees." I walked to my desk and sat down, smoothly, like the conversation was already boring me. "I was hired as VP of Marketing by a majority vote. All the paperwork is in order. I believe your legal team reviewed it yesterday." I opened my laptop. "Was there something specific you needed, or did you come up here just to welcome me back?"

The muscle in his jaw tightened.

Good.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Aria,"

"Miss Sinclair," I corrected, looking up at him. Calm. Unbothered. "We're colleagues now, Mr. Kane. Let's keep things professional."

The silence that followed was the loudest thing I had heard in years.

Ethan Kane stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time and hating everything he saw, not because it was unpleasant, but because it wasn't what he expected. He had expected the girl he left behind. Soft. Hurt. Easy to dismiss.

That girl was gone.

I had buried her myself.

"This isn't over," he said quietly.

"It never started," I replied. "Close the door on your way out, please."

For a long moment he didn't move. His grey eyes searched my face for something, a crack, a flinch, any trace of the woman who had once cried herself to sleep over him.

He found nothing.

Because I had practiced this. I had stood in front of mirrors in my apartment for months, learning how to look at the idea of him and feel nothing. Or at least, look like I felt nothing. The difference, I had learned, was everything.

He left.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I exhaled slowly, turned back to my laptop screen, and allowed myself exactly five seconds of weakness, my hands flat on the desk, my eyes closed, my heart beating slightly too fast.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

I opened my eyes.

I had a company to dismantle from the inside. A reputation to build. A truth to uncover.

And Ethan Kane was going to help me do all of it, whether he liked it or not.

I reached for my coffee, took a slow sip, and smiled for the first time all morning.

Revenge, I thought, looks really good on me.