Chapter 18

Willow POV

I knew Blake's visit had to be related to Sterling.

Every eye in the office burned into me like a spotlight.

"I'm available." I stood.

Blake gestured politely. "Please, this way."

I followed him out. I could feel the weight of countless stares on my back.

"Oh my God, who is Willow…"

The elevator doors closed, cutting off the whispers.

We arrived at a café. Blake pulled out a folder and slid it across the table.

"Mr. Lancaster suffers from chronic migraines," Blake said in his calm, professional tone. "After you performed a massage for him last time, his symptoms improved significantly. He would like to hire you as his personal wellness consultant to provide nightly head massages."

My breath caught.

I opened the folder.

The contract was straightforward. Work from 8 to 10 PM daily, with weekends off.

Monthly salary: $50,000.

Fifty thousand dollars. That would more than cover Grandma's medical expenses.

But just because of one massage…

"This is purely a therapeutic health service," Blake added, as if reading my hesitation. "You have no reason to be concerned."

I stared at the number. Finally, I looked up. "Give me a pen."

Blake reached into his suit jacket and handed me a fountain pen.

I signed my name on the dotted line.

"Good," Blake said, taking back the contract. "I'll pick you up tomorrow after work."

He paused. "Also, Mr. Lancaster prefers to keep this arrangement confidential. His personal matters aren't suitable for public knowledge."

I nodded. "Understood."

Back at the office, every gaze locked onto me again.

I returned to my desk, opened my computer, and focused on work.

"Willow," Molly leaned over, lowering her voice. "What did Blake want?"

"Work stuff." I kept typing.

Molly looked like she wanted to press further, but our supervisor, Lucy, walked over. She dropped a massive stack of folders on my desk—at least fifty files.

"These need to be organized and filed by the end of the day." Lucy looked down at me with a saccharine smile. "And all this data needs to be entered into the system. Also by end of day."

I looked up at her.

"Is there a problem?" She raised an eyebrow. "After all, you got in through connections. Might as well prove you're good for something, right?"

That last sentence was just loud enough for the entire office to hear.

A few coworkers exchanged glances. Someone snickered.

Molly muttered under her breath, "Ignore her. Lucy's like this with all the new hires. She thinks she can get away with anything because she's the CEO's distant cousin."

I didn't respond. I started sorting through the files.

Honestly, I didn't care about Lucy's power trips. This job was just a stepping stone—a place to build experience and save money.

Once I had enough saved and finalized the divorce, I wouldn't be here long.

Before long, Gareth's secretary appeared. "Willow, the CEO wants to see you."

I stood and headed to the CEO's office.

Gareth sat in his oversized leather chair. When he saw me, his face broke into a wide smile.

"Willow, have a seat." He gestured to the chair across from him.

I sat.

"Blake came to see you today?" He got straight to the point.

"Yes."

"What did he want?"

I paused. "A private matter."

Gareth's smile faltered. "A private matter? What kind of private matter requires Mr. Lancaster's executive assistant to come here in person?"

I wasn't an idiot. I knew exactly what he was fishing for—he wanted to establish a connection with Lancaster Group.

I met his eyes directly. "Mr. Lancaster and I don't have any special relationship. That interview was just a coincidence—he helped me out. Blake's visit today was also personal and has nothing to do with Lancaster Group's business."

His smile vanished completely.

I didn't wait for a response. I stood.

"If there's nothing else, I'll get back to work."

---

At the end of the day, I received a message from Charles:

Babe, Rachel's mom took a turn for the worse. I need to stay at the hospital tonight. Head home on your own. Rena already made dinner for you.

I stared at the message, a mocking smile tugging at my lips.

It was just an excuse. What was Charles's relationship to Rachel that he needed to take care of her mother?

When I got home, Rena had dinner ready.

"Mrs. Marshall," she said warmly, "I made your favorite—roasted sea bass."

I walked into the dining room. The table was set beautifully. Roasted sea bass, cream soup, Caesar salad.

But I had no appetite.

I sat down and cut a small piece of fish. The fishy taste hit me instantly.

I covered my mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

I leaned over the toilet, dry heaving. Nothing came up—just wave after wave of nausea.

Rena followed me, her face full of concern. "Mrs. Marshall, are you all right? Should I call a doctor?"

"No need." I splashed cold water on my face. "I've probably just been working too hard."

Rena's eyes suddenly lit up. "You don't think… you could be pregnant?"

I froze.

"No."

"But the symptoms really seem like it!" Rena looked excited. "Why don't you go to the hospital tomorrow and get checked?"

I cut her off, my tone sharp. "I've been under a lot of stress at work lately. That's all."

I knew the truth.

The morning after that night, I took emergency contraception.

There was no way I was pregnant.

---

The next day, Lucy deliberately assigned me the most tedious, time-consuming tasks. I buried myself in spreadsheets and data entry, fingers flying across the keyboard, eyes glued to the screen until they burned. My body was exhausted, but there was a strange satisfaction in it.

At least here, I was learning. Growing. I wasn't just some housewife waiting at home for her husband to come back.

The moment the workday ended, I shut down my computer.

I walked out of the building and immediately spotted the familiar black Bentley across the street.

Blake had arrived as promised.

I crossed over. Blake stepped out and opened the car door for me.

"Good evening, Miss Spencer."

I pulled open the back door—and my breath caught.

Sterling was inside.

He leaned back against the seat, eyes on his laptop.

The cold glow of the screen illuminated his sharp, flawless profile.

Neon lights from the street flickered across his deep-set eyes, casting shadows that came and went.

Hearing the door open, he looked up.

His dark gaze swept over me—heavy, tangible, sending a faint shiver across my skin.