Chapter 23: The Provocative Employee

Cora barely finished her milk before her stomach rebelled. Clutching her mouth, she bolted for the restroom.

Austin froze. That was Mr. Watson’s private washroom—no one was ever allowed in there. He opened his mouth to stop her, but Julian didn’t even flinch. Instead, he spoke casually, as if nothing were out of place.

“Send up food every hour,” he ordered. “If she doesn’t like English milk, switch to the Japanese kind.”

Austin nearly dropped his tablet. Japanese milk? Every hour? What was happening to his famously cold-blooded boss?

Meanwhile, Cora leaned over the toilet, retching until she thought she’d turn inside out. When she finally pressed the crystal flush button, she caught her breath—and noticed that everything, even the sink, was crystal.

Seriously? Who makes a bathroom out of gemstones?

After rinsing her mouth and wiping her hands, she returned to the office. On her desk sat another steaming glass of milk.

So it was going to be like the bird’s-nest soup incident all over again—vomit, recover, and keep eating.

Without complaint, she lifted the glass and took a sip.

The flavor surprised her. Smooth, delicate—nothing like before.

She glanced up. Julian was at the window, speaking rapid Korean into the phone. She couldn’t understand a word, so she quietly finished her drink. No nausea this time.

When he hung up and turned around, his eyes softened. Seeing her obediently drink the milk, calm and steady, brought an odd warmth to his chest.

“You did well on that audit,” he said, walking over. “Seems you’re not just a pretty face.”

Then, with a faint smirk, he added, “Not that you really have the looks for that role anyway.”

Cora blinked. Wow. Brutal honesty, straight from the boss.

Sure, she wasn’t glamorous like the others—no designer heels, no full face of makeup every morning—but did he have to say it out loud?

Still, she bit her tongue. Getting defensive wouldn’t help. He was Mr. Watson. She was his employee. That was the power dynamic, like it or not.

“You’re right,” she said simply. “I didn’t graduate from a top school. The only way I’ll survive here is by working harder than everyone else.”

Julian tilted his head, intrigued. “So you’re saying you can actually do more than paperwork?”

“Depends what you need. I’ve handled most of the departments’ reports before,” she said evenly. “Just not executive-level decisions.”

He gestured toward the stack of spreadsheets. “These too?”

Cora nodded. “The logistics team supports every division. I’ve done them all.”

That caught his attention.

Before he could ask more, Austin hurried in and whispered something into his ear. Julian nodded. “Got it. Arrange for the client to dine in our company restaurant.”

Cora started to step aside, ready to return to her desk, but Julian stopped her. “You’re coming too.”

She blinked. Austin quickly filled in the blanks. “The guest today is the deputy director of Alders Corporation, one of our Korean partners. If you have any food restrictions, please let me know in advance, ma’am.”

Of course Austin understood immediately—when Julian decided, everyone followed.

Cora’s pulse spiked. She’d never been anywhere near a high-level business lunch before. Reports and spreadsheets were one thing. Sitting across from global executives was another.

Julian noticed her hesitation but didn’t rescind the order. If she was going to be his wife, she needed to start learning. The Korean chairman and his wife would be visiting soon; this was just the rehearsal.

Cora understood too. Her life had changed overnight. Everything familiar was fading; everything new was intimidating. But she couldn’t hide behind fear.

She’d survived being the lowest-ranked employee once—bullied, ignored, dismissed. She could do it again.

Straightening her shoulders, she met Julian’s gaze. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Then she turned to Austin. “I’m in my first trimester. The doctor said no overly spicy or fishy foods. Otherwise, I’m fine.”

Austin nodded briskly and went to make arrangements. Julian quietly filed the note away in his mind.

“Good,” he said. “Lunch is at noon, twenty-first floor. Don’t be late.”

He left with his team, his stride crisp and assured.

When the door shut, Cora finally collapsed into her chair, exhaling hard. Facing Julian was exhausting. But she didn’t have time to wallow—this lunch was the real test.

She opened her laptop and began frantically googling fine-dining etiquette. Fork placement, wine order, conversation topics—anything that might save her from humiliation.

Austin soon messaged her the full menu. She scanned each dish, memorizing the basics until she felt at least half prepared. Then, taking a deep breath, she headed for the twenty-first-floor executive restaurant.

Watson Group had its own dining complex—each floor ranked by status.

The eighth floor was for staff.

The sixteenth, for managers.

The twenty-first, off-limits to anyone but the CEO and top shareholders.

When Cora stepped inside, the chatter died instantly.

Dozens of eyes turned her way—some wide with curiosity, others sharp with envy.

Here we go again, she thought grimly. The price of promotion.

She’d expected gossip, but she hadn’t expected open hostility.

“Cora,” a voice sneered, “are you lost?”

A woman from Sales—a manager in a red suit—blocked her path, lips curling.

“I guess sleeping with the boss really does pay off. From back-office nobody to assistant lead overnight. Impressive. But don’t kid yourself—you’ll never go higher than this. This floor isn’t for women who earn their promotions on their backs.”

Cora’s fingers clenched at her sides. Don’t get angry. Breathe. Think of the baby.

“Move,” she said quietly. “If I am fired for walking into the wrong place, wouldn’t that just make you happy? You’d have one less rival for Mr. Watson’s attention.”

The woman’s smile faltered.

Before she could respond, Austin appeared, expression icy. “Ms. Reed.” His tone was a warning in itself.

The manager stiffened. She knew Austin’s position—Julian’s right hand—and quickly stepped aside.

“Group Leader,” Austin said pointedly, turning to Cora, “Mr. Watson and the client are waiting. This way.”

Relief flickered in Cora’s eyes. She nodded, grateful for the rescue, and followed him into the private elevator.

Behind them, the red-suited manager stood frozen, her face pale.

“She can’t—she doesn’t belong on that floor,” she whispered, but no one answered.