Chapter 30
My office was spacious, with a touch of understated luxury. I hadn’t been inside many offices before, but I’d seen enough in movies and TV shows to recognize the markers of authority. The elegant wooden desk, the plush office chair, the meticulously crafted cabinets, and the exquisite coffee table flanked by a sofa and armchairs—it was the kind of setup that belonged to someone important. A general manager or a department director, perhaps. Yet here I stood, in a space just like those from the screen, except this was mine.
The strangeness of it all settled over me as I wandered the room. My fingers brushed lightly over the polished desktop and my sleek, top-of-the-line laptop. Even a personal coffee machine graced my office. It was a stark contrast to the way I used to work—perched on a bed or the floor with my laptop precariously balanced on my knees, sipping lukewarm coffee brewed hours earlier. I knew my skills should have earned me a five-digit monthly salary long ago, yet standing here, surrounded by such extravagance, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t quite belong. Beneath my calm exterior, joy bubbled uncontrollably, but an anxious voice whispered that any moment someone would burst in and demand I leave.
That thought had barely crossed my mind when a sharp knock rattled the door, followed by it swinging open before I could even answer.
"By all means, come in," I muttered dryly, watching a tall, brown-haired woman stride into my office and slam the door shut behind her.
“I’m Vesper Lockhart. You can call me Ms. Lockhart, like everyone else. You’re Thalassa Marwood, right?” she asked curtly, her attention fixed on a stack of documents in her hands.
I forced a polite smile, though my teeth clenched behind it.
“I’d appreciate it if you could correct my name in your records,” I began, keeping my tone steady. “I’ve never used my father’s surname. I go by Thalassa Drayton—the name I used all through school and university.”
Her lips curled into a mocking smirk. “The name you used in school? Does that mean you’ve used other names, too?” she asked with a derisive chuckle.
Her condescension was like nails on a chalkboard, but I held my ground, taking a measured breath.
“Yes, I’ve used different names,” I replied evenly, “but the only one that truly belongs to me is Drayton. That’s why I’m asking you, Ms. Lockhart, to update the records accordingly.”
With a dramatic click of her tongue, she tore several pages from her documents and muttered loud enough for me to hear, “Great, now I have to redo this damn contract.”
I smiled sweetly. “I suppose we all need to do our jobs well, don’t we, Ms. Lockhart?”
Her frown deepened, and she scrawled my mother’s name onto the papers with obvious irritation. Her hostility was palpable, radiating through every gesture. I couldn’t help but wonder what had caused her disdain. As she stepped closer, her gaze fixated on my neck. A sinking feeling confirmed my suspicions—she was looking for bite marks.
From the moment she entered, her demeanor screamed, You don’t deserve this. Now she seemed desperate to uncover some scandal, hoping to prove I’d slept my way into this position.
“I’m not marked, if that’s what you’re so desperately searching for,” I said, meeting her stare with icy composure.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking for that. Just… observing.” Her attempt at nonchalance fell flat.
“Whatever you say, Ms. Lockhart,” I replied, my voice laced with sarcasm. Then, with a more serious tone, I added, “Do you have something for me? I’d like to get started on my work.”
Her grimace deepened as she reached into her pocket and tossed a plastic card onto my desk.
“This is your access pass. It’ll grant you entry to all floors, including the archives. Only the CEO and CFO have similar clearance, so don’t lose it,” she said, her teeth gritted.
Her thinly veiled envy was almost laughable. She knew nothing about me, yet it clearly irked her that I had access to files she likely never would.
“Why, thank you, Ms. Lockhart!” I said, beaming.
The cheer in my voice only seemed to fuel her frustration. She spun on her heel and stormed toward the door, clearly eager to leave.
But she wasn’t done yet.
“Ms. Lockhart!” I called just as her hand touched the doorknob. “Would you be so kind as to give me the tour you’re supposed to?” I asked, flashing her my most professional smile.
Her shoulders stiffened before she muttered, “Follow me. And bring the pass.”
I exhaled heavily, pocketed the card, and trailed after her. The only thing keeping me calm was the thought that, with any luck, our paths wouldn’t cross often in this company.
Thalassa, I know you’d love nothing more than to slam her smug face against the nearest wall—or at least land a few punches until she bleeds—but it’s generally frowned upon to assault the intellectually impaired, especially on your first day of work, I reminded myself, silently repeating the mantra in my head.
We stepped into the elevator. Judging by the scathing glares she kept shooting my way, nothing could have displeased Vesper more than being tasked with giving me this tour. For the sake of learning my way around, I decided to ignore her attitude. When we arrived on the fourth floor, she didn’t bother to announce where we were. Instead, she strode down the corridor without even glancing back to see if I was following. I took a deep breath, summoning patience.
“These are the archives,” she finally announced, stopping in front of a heavily secured door.
“You’ll need your pass to access it. Inside, you’ll find all the documents you need—assuming, of course, you actually know how to read them,” she added, her voice dripping with derision.
“Thank you for your concern, Ms. Lockhart,” I replied coolly, smiling just enough to show her I wasn’t intimidated. “Rest assured, I can manage perfectly well—just as I trust you did when signing those employee contracts.”
Her face twisted into a scowl. “There’s nothing wrong with the work I’ve done over the years!” she snapped defensively.
“Oh, I certainly hope not, Ms. Lockhart,” I replied, smirking ever so slightly.
Her glare sharpened, but she seemed to think better of delivering another biting remark. Instead, she resumed leading me through the various departments. As we moved higher in the building, the departments grew more prestigious.
I quickly noticed something peculiar. On the lower floors, the employees were predominantly human, working in open-concept offices as accountants, clerks, and assistants. But as we climbed higher, the atmosphere shifted. The offices became more lavish, with sleek glass doors and individualized spaces. Yet many of these offices were unoccupied.
“Where are all the managers?” I asked, stopping in front of yet another empty office.
Vesper let out a derisive snort before fixing me with a condescending gaze. “I can’t believe you don’t even know that,” she sneered.
“Aren’t you here to answer my questions?” I shot back, my patience wearing thin.
She exhaled dramatically, then replied in a begrudging tone. “The managers are commoners. They don’t come in until sundown to avoid sun exposure. Besides, they’re not particularly fond of humans. Their bloodlust is far more intense than that of the nobles.”
“I see…” I murmured thoughtfully.
The structure of the company was stranger than I’d anticipated. Over the course of the tour, I pressed Vesper to share more about the vampires who worked there. Eventually, I learned that the board consisted of just four nobles, all of them wielding immense influence. The rest of the upper management positions were held by commoners—something that was apparently common practice, given that most businesses in Monteforte City were vampire-owned.
Out of all the project managers, only four were human. Vesper, as it turned out, was one of just twelve humans to hold a position higher than that of a standard office worker. Most of them had earned promotions after years of dedication.
By the end of the tour, it all clicked. The cold hostility I’d sensed from the human employees wasn’t in my imagination. I was the only human ever to be granted such a high-ranking position at Monteforte Investment Bank—and I hadn’t climbed the ladder to get here. From the moment I’d set foot in the building, I’d been despised. The CFO’s “welcoming” attitude had merely been the final insult.
It dawned on me that my mere presence was enough to ignite a firestorm of rumors about how I’d landed this job, ensuring I would be surrounded by disdain and suspicion. That day, I resolved to ignore their attitudes. I wasn’t interested in winning their approval or making friends. But what I didn’t yet understand was how contempt could fester, growing into something far more dangerous than I could have imagined.