By all rights, since she and Soren were married, only one invitation should have
been sent.
That’s how it worked with every other family–when they hosted a dinner or a gala, just one invitation would go to Soren.
But the Lockridges, sworn rivals of the Fawkes family, seemed to have made it a point–whether out of spite or mere oversight–to send separate invitations to both her and Soren, every single time.
She’d never attended before.
But this time…
Evangeline ran her fingers over the thick, cream–colored envelope in her hands and let out a long, quiet breath.
Soren certainly wouldn’t be going.
But she needed to seize any opportunity she could get, no matter how small.
Let them laugh. She was used to being the target of ridicule by now.
Unbothered, Evangeline organized her files on UME, preparing her pitch to secure fresh investment.
Midway through her work, a call came in from Fawkes Enterprises.
The HR representative on the other end asked about her absence–they wanted to know if she still intended to join the company as planned.
Only then did Evangeline recall what Soren had said yesterday, about arranging a position for her at Fawkes Enterprises. The conversation had veered off, and she’d forgotten to decline.
She replied in a level voice, “No, I won’t be taking the position.”
“May I ask why?” The HR manager’s tone was strictly professional.
“I’ve found another job,” Evangeline answered.
“Understood. Thank you for your time,” the woman said, hastening to end the call.
As soon as Evangeline hung up, the HR manager wiped her clammy palms on her skirt.
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She glanced down at the employment form, eyes lingering on the expected salary field: three thousand. Just scraping the minimum wage for Serenity City.
Apparently, that was the lowest salary Fawkes Enterprises ever offered.
When she first saw the number, she thought the assistant must have missed a zero. But after double–checking, she confirmed it–three thousand, no mistake.
She remembered how the assistant who’d handled the paperwork, with her mint–green manicure, had tapped Evangeline’s photo and grinned, “Do you know who this is?”
She’d answered honestly, “No idea.”
HR was always the last to hear gossip–unlike the secretarial team, who seemed to know everything. HR just followed orders, working nonstop, with no time to keep up with rumors.
The assistant raised an eyebrow, lowering her voice, “She’s connected to Mr. Fawkes.”
The HR manager’s eyes widened. “Connected? If she’s really close to Mr. Fawkes, why would she get such a low offer? Shouldn’t there at least be another zero?”
The assistant wagged a finger, smirking, “You don’t get it. She’s not here for the money. She’s here for Mr. Fawkes.”
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“She’s interviewed here before. Back then, the offer was even lower, and she still said yes. She’d probably work for nothing if it meant being near him.” .
So that’s it, the HR manager thought. Just another of Mr. Fawkes‘ admirers, hoping proximity might turn his head.
Still, she felt uneasy–mixing romance with work never sat right with her.
She tried, cautiously, “So… is this Mr. Fawkes‘ decision?”
The assistant stifled a laugh behind her hand. “Are you kidding? Mr. Fawkes couldn’t care less about her, The salary’s our call.”
“But you have to understand–our secretarial team is his inner circle. We’re supposed to anticipate his wishes, not just follow his words. If he says something, we listen. If he doesn’t say something, we listen even harder.”
Everyone in the secretarial pool knew Soren despised Evangeline, and had no patience for the Whitmore family. If they offered her a better salary, he’d think they were undermining him–and he’d be furious.
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To keep Mr. Fawkes happy, the lower the offer, the better. And if anyone questioned it, they could always say Evangeline had no experience.
The HR manager recalled the assistant’s smug, self–assured expression–the way she seemed utterly at home in these intricate office games.
She exhaled, resigned. She’d never understand these office politics.
But since the candidate wasn’t coming anyway, there was no point in dwelling on it.
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