Chapter 26 The Last Favor
Rowan
The moment I step into the building, I know I’ve made a mistake.
Because there—right at the security station, past the turnstiles and the polished marble—is Avery.
Crying.
Not quiet tears. Not dignified sadness. Full-on sobbing, shoulders shaking, mascara streaking down her face as she clutches the edge of the desk and demands to see me like the world has ended.
I glance at my watch.
7:32 a.m.
Two minutes late.
I swear under my breath.
I am never late. Never. It’s not a quirk, it’s a rule. A line I don’t cross. But last night my mind wouldn’t shut up—Violet’s mother, her brother, that detective circling like a vulture, and Violet herself, standing steady under pressure most people would have folded under.
The only person I wasn’t thinking about was Avery.
And yet, here she is.
As I walk past, I don’t slow. “Go home,” I say flatly. “You’re not getting your job back.”
Her head snaps up. “Rowan, please—”
“Enough.”
I keep moving.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she drops.
Actually drops.
Down onto her knees in the middle of the lobby, hands clasped like she’s praying, voice breaking as she begs me to hear her out. Says she needs help. Says she doesn’t know who else to turn to. Says she’s scared.
I stop.
I hate that part of me—the part that feels something at that. Pity, maybe. Or annoyance tangled up with obligation. Either way, I know I’m going to regret what comes next.
I turn back to the security guard. “Let her through.”
The guard hesitates, then nods and unclips the gate.
Avery scrambles to her feet and immediately tries to latch onto me—arms reaching, lips aiming for my cheek.
I shove her back without hesitation.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” I say coldly.
She stumbles but stays upright, tears still spilling, nodding rapidly like she’s grateful just to be allowed to breathe the same air as me.
I straighten my suit and continue toward the elevators.
She follows.
Of course she does.
The elevator doors slide open.
And there—inside already—are Violet and Camille.
I expected Violet. Of course I did. She’s never late. Camille, though—that’s interesting.
My attention snaps to Violet before I can stop it.
White pencil skirt. Crisp. Precise. A black blouse that dips just enough to be intentional without being careless. Her hair is pulled into a smooth bun that exposes her neck, and there’s a thin gold chain resting against her skin that draws the eye whether you want it to or not.
She looks… composed.
No. Better than that.
She looks unshakeable.
She steps forward the second she sees me, not surprised in the slightest by Avery’s presence.
“Good morning,” she says calmly, already sliding my schedule into my hand.
My coffee follows. Black. Perfect temperature. Two ice cubes. A blueberry muffin, warmed exactly the way I like it.
She doesn’t miss a beat.
She never does.
I don’t say anything.
I don’t need to.
But behind me, Avery makes a small, broken sound. A sharp inhale. Disbelief.
I feel the corner of my mouth threaten a smirk.
I don’t let it show.
The elevator doors close, sealing the four of us inside.
Avery stands rigid, staring at Violet like she’s seeing a ghost wearing designer clothes. Violet doesn’t look back at her. She’s already back at her tablet, fingers moving, focused, untouchable.
The ride up is silent.
When the doors open on my floor, I step out without looking back.
Avery follows.
So does Violet.
And for the first time that morning, despite everything—
I don’t regret being late.
Because the system is functioning exactly the way it should.
And Avery is finally realizing she’s no longer part of it.
The moment the door closes behind us, Avery finally finds her voice.
“Why is she coming into your office?” she demands, heels clicking sharply as she gestures toward Violet like she’s an inconvenience that wandered in uninvited.
Violet doesn’t even look at her.
“I won’t be long,” Violet says calmly, already stepping past her. “I just need to go over something on your personal calendar.”
Avery scoffs. “Isn’t that job meant for your personal assistant? Not your receptionist?”
Violet doesn’t respond.
She doesn’t bristle. She doesn’t defend herself. She simply ignores Avery’s existence entirely—and that, more than anything, rattles her.
I take my seat behind the desk without comment.
Violet steps forward immediately, professional, composed. She places my tablet in front of me with the calendar already pulled up.
“Theo finalized most of today’s schedule,” she says evenly. “Marketing prep at ten, legal call moved to eleven-thirty, and the investor check-in remains at two. He also added a meeting for 4pm as well."
She scrolls once. Pauses.
“He referred to them as an old friend,” Violet continues. “He didn’t give me more detail than that.”
I don’t react.
Because I know exactly who it is.
The PI.
“Everything else has been spaced to avoid overlap,” she finishes. “You’ll have buffer time between meetings.”
I glance at the screen, nod once. “Approved.”
Violet inclines her head. “That’s all.”
She turns and heads for the door.
Avery watches her go like she’s watching a crime unfold in slow motion.
The door closes.
Silence settles.
Avery shifts in her chair, then looks at me, forcing a brittle laugh. “So… when is my replacement due?”
I don’t answer right away.
I let the question sit there and rot.
“She already arrived,” I say finally.
Avery blinks. Looks around the office. The desk. The door.
Then it hits her.
Her spine goes rigid. “No,” she says sharply. “No, that’s not funny.”
I meet her gaze.
Her face drains of color.
“You can’t be serious,” she breathes. “That’s—this is delusional. She’s—she’s a receptionist.”
“She was,” I correct.
Avery laughs again, high and unsteady. “Rowan, come on. This is insane.”
I give her a look.
The same one I give board members when they overstep.
She shuts up immediately.
“You said you needed help,” I remind her. “Get to it.”
She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I know it’s only been a day, okay? But I can’t find anything. I’ve applied everywhere and no one’s calling me back. I keep getting rejected.”
She looks at me, eyes pleading now instead of furious.
“I was wondering if you could… help. Maybe make a call. Put in a word.”
I lean back in my chair and study her.
This is the part she doesn’t understand.
The part she never has.
“I don’t place people,” I say evenly. “I invest in them.”
She waits for me to soften.
I don’t.
Instead, I write quickly on a notepad and slide it across the desk.
A location. A time.
“This is all I’m doing,” I say. “Be on time. Do the work. Don’t mention my name unless asked.”
Her hands shake as she takes it.
“This won’t be like this job,” I continue. “No perks. No protection. No tolerance.”
She nods. “Thank you—”
“Don’t come back,” I cut in. “Don’t call. Don’t try to leverage this.”
I press the intercom. “Security.”
Avery flinches.
As they escort her out, I finally exhale.
The system is stable again.