Chapter 160 No Harsh Words
Olivia found out about Aiden Bennett's death the same way the rest of America did—scrolling through news headlines on her phone.
LEGENDARY GENERAL AIDEN BENNETT PASSES AT 89
Her thumb froze mid-scroll. The photo showed an elderly man in full military dress uniform, medals gleaming across his chest, his expression stern and proud. She stared at the name, her heart stuttering.
Bennett.
Aiden Bennett.
Her hands shook as she typed out a message.
[The General in the news... is that your grandfather?]
Three hours later, her phone finally buzzed.
[Yes]
She'd known he was rich. She'd known he had connections. But she hadn't understood the scale of it. Not really.
This wasn't "owns a nice house" rich. This wasn't even "private jet" rich.
This was "shapes the fucking country" rich.
Her fingers found her phone again, hovering over the keyboard.
He'd just lost his grandfather. Maybe he needed... something. Anything. Even if it came from someone as insignificant as her.
[I'm so sorry for your loss.]
[Your grandfather's legacy speaks for itself. I'm sure he's at peace now, and I hope you can find some comfort in that. Take care of yourself.]
Ethan didn't reply. She hadn't expected him to.
---
Senior year was approaching fast, and UCLA required all students to complete an internship during fall semester. They'd need to submit proof of employment by the start of spring term.
Technically, Olivia could've asked Ethan to write her a fake internship certificate.
But she didn't want to cheat her way through this. She wanted to earn something, to prove to herself that she could stand on her own two feet in the real world.
The problem was, the real world didn't seem particularly interested in hiring her.
She'd started with the obvious choice: costume design positions. She scoured job boards for openings at theater companies, film studios, fashion houses—anything related to her major. But every listing came with impossible requirements. Five years of experience. A portfolio of professional work. Industry connections. Unpaid internships in cities she couldn't afford to live in.
After two weeks of rejections and ignored applications, she admitted defeat and broadened her search.
Administrative assistant. Office coordinator. Executive secretary. Generic positions that just required answering phones and filing paperwork.
It felt like giving up. Like admitting her degree was useless. But it was either this or fail to graduate, and she'd worked too damn hard to let that happen.
She updated her resume with every relevant detail—student organizations, library jobs, theater volunteer work. It still looked thin, but it was honest.
Then she started applying.
She must've sent out fifty applications in three days, clicking "submit" over and over until the words blurred together. Most companies didn't bother responding. The ones that did sent automated rejections within hours.
But then, miracle of miracles, she got two callbacks.
The first was from a company called Starshine Media—an entertainment agency that handled talent representation and event planning. They needed an administrative assistant to support their talent coordinators. The pay was barely above minimum wage, but it was something.
The second was from OceanRise Trading Co., Ltd., which she only vaguely remembered applying to. According to their website, they were a newly established subsidiary focused on international business development and trade partnerships. The position was for a secretary/administrative assistant to the Sales Director.
She stared at her phone, reading both interview invitations three times to make sure they were real.
She wanted to tell Ethan. To hear him say something reassuring in that low, confident voice. But every time she picked up her phone, she remembered that terse "Yes" and stopped herself.
He was dealing with his grandfather's death. He didn't need her bothering him about job applications.
So she kept it to herself, allowing a tiny bubble of hope to form in her chest.
---
Meanwhile, at OceanRise Trading Co., Ltd., Trent Lincoln stood in the HR department, flipping through a stack of resumes.
His hand paused on one particular resume.
Olivia Reed.
Trent walked to his office and closed the door before pulling out his phone.
Ethan answered on the second ring despite being back at the Bennett estate handling funeral arrangements. "What is it?"
"Boss," Trent kept his voice low. "We received a resume from Olivia."
A pause. Then: "What position?"
"Sales Director's secretary."
Another pause, longer this time. Trent could hear muffled voices in the background—family members, probably. Then Ethan's voice came back, cool and controlled.
"Schedule her for an interview tomorrow. Follow standard procedure—don't let anyone know she's special. And tell Damien to watch his fucking temper. No yelling. No harsh words."
Trent nearly smiled. Damien Kroger, their Sales Director transferred from headquarters, was known for his volatile temperament. Half the female staff had been reduced to tears at some point.
"Understood. Though sir, wouldn't it make more sense for her to interview at headquarters? For your executive assistant position?"
"No." Ethan's tone was flat. "She doesn't have the experience to be my secretary. Work and personal matters stay separate."
Trent frowned. Then why is she qualified to be a Sales Director's secretary? But he knew better than to voice that question.
"Also," Ethan continued, "make sure she doesn't see you during the interview. Screen her resume from the other companies she applied to—call them and tell them the position's filled."
"Got it." A brief silence. Then: "When's the old man being buried?"
"Day after tomorrow."
"I'll try to make it."
"Don't worry about it. Company business comes first."
Before hanging up, Trent hesitated. "Boss... does Olivia know? About your grandfather?"
The silence stretched so long Trent thought the call had dropped.
Finally: "Yeah. She knows."
"And she's not—"
"She's not coming." Ethan's voice was sharp, final.
The line went dead.
Trent stared at his phone, then shook his head and walked back to HR to arrange Olivia's interview.
---
Olivia compared the two interview times and locations. She'd go to Starshine Media first—it was closer to campus. Though something nagged at her about that one. She didn't remember applying there. Why had they called her?
OceanRise, at least, made sense. She'd specifically targeted them because they were newly established. New companies usually had lower hiring standards, more openings, less competition.
She pushed her doubts aside. Two interviews were two interviews.
---
At Starshine Media's headquarters, Emily Sullivan approached the HR supervisor's desk.
"Has Olivia Reed confirmed her arrival time?" Emily kept her voice casual.
The supervisor checked her screen. "She said she'll be here in about two minutes, Miss Sullivan."
Emily nodded. "Use Conference Room Three for her interview."
"Of course."