Chapter 1: My Ex Is the Boss?!

The second I walked into that interview, I caught the scent of leather and expensive cologne—and there he was: my ex-boyfriend, sitting smack in the president’s chair. My stomach did a backflip. Seriously? Of all the people, of all the jobs…

He lounged there like he owned the place—elbows draped over the armrests, fingers steepled, wearing that look I knew way too well. God, I’d seen it a hundred times. Just never in a suit that probably cost more than my rent. Honestly, the air felt so thick, I swear the walls were holding their breath.

HR cleared her throat, shuffling some papers. “So, what are your career goals?”

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but his most of all—burning a hole right through me. My brain short-circuited, flickering through old snapshots: Eli’s lopsided grin, the way he’d toss his keys on my kitchen counter, the mess of late-night takeout boxes—classic Eli. Before I could even blink, my mouth ran away from me.

I almost said, “To become the boss’s wife.”

Did I really just say that? The words dangled in the air, like the punchline to a joke nobody wanted to laugh at. Seriously, universe? Of all the ways to pay for my past mistakes, did it have to be this? If the universe had a suggestion box, I’d be stuffing it full of complaints right now.

Stonebridge Holdings’ conference room. All glass and chrome—intimidating as hell.

The place looked straight out of a Netflix drama about ruthless CEOs. My heels echoed—way too loud. My palms were sweaty, and my heart? Might as well have been pounding out my name on the table.

There he was. My ex. Sitting dead center. The nameplate in front of him gleamed: “President.”

I had to blink twice, convinced the fluorescent lights were messing with me. But nope—Eli Whitaker, looking every bit the boss. And the job I was here for? President’s secretary. Figures. My luck, right?

Eli Whitaker—my ex, the guy I once jokingly called my boy toy, now the president of a publicly traded company? I mean, come on. I felt like I’d stumbled into a parallel universe where my ex had leveled up and I was still stuck at the tutorial. Honestly, I half-expected someone to jump out and yell, “Cut!” like it was some twisted prank show.

I met Eli while traveling in Europe. During one of those long, late-night hostel chats, we realized we both lived in Maple Heights. After we got back to the States, well, we were both adults. One thing led to another. Next thing I knew, we were together.

It was one of those whirlwind travel flings you expect to burn out fast, but ours didn’t. I can still see it: Eli at my door, suitcase in hand, eyes crinkling as he hugged me. “Autumn, I’m here to crash with you.”

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. No warning. No plan. Just Eli, squeezing himself into my little place.

Eli was honestly the perfect boyfriend—gorgeous, thoughtful, a pretty good cook. In the beginning, it was all so sweet. I mean, who wouldn’t fall for that?

He’d whip up pancakes on Sunday mornings, leave post-it notes with doodles on my mirror, always knew how to make me laugh when I was stressed. For a while, we lived in our own little bubble, safe from everything else. It was almost too good to be true.

But after he moved in, he just stayed home, unemployed. My paycheck wasn’t much, but it kept us fed.

At first, I told myself it was temporary—he was between jobs, figuring things out. But weeks turned into months, and pretty soon, rent and bills crushed the romance right out of us. I started resenting how easygoing he seemed about it all.

In the end, we broke up over money. I just sat there for a moment, feeling hollow.

Eli was a guy with a lot of passion. Sometimes too much for real life.

Every night was a party. He’d want to go out, or have people over, or binge Netflix until three in the morning. I couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t focus at work. If this kept up, I’d lose my job. Forget supporting him—I could barely support myself.

So I broke up with him, quick and clean. Sometimes you just have to rip the Band-Aid off.

He stared at me, his eyes red. “Why?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. My pride wouldn’t let me admit I was scared I couldn’t afford him. So I made up a lame excuse—honestly, it was pathetic even as I said it.

“I like someone else. I was just messing around with you.”

Just messing around… The words felt like acid in my mouth, but I couldn’t take them back.

I’ll never forget the way his face crumpled, like I’d knocked the wind out of him. That night, when I got home, his scent was already gone from the apartment. No one waiting for me with dinner. It was like he’d never even been there.

I muddled through the rest of the interview questions, my brain running on autopilot. My hands shook a little, but I kept my game face on.

HR: “So, what are your career goals?”

My head was still swirling with memories of Eli, and I blurted out,

“To become the boss’s wife.”

The words had barely left my mouth when the room went silent. Not a cough, not a shuffle—just dead air.

You couldn’t have heard a pin drop; it was more like the entire room froze. The HR rep’s mouth twitched, like she couldn’t decide if she should laugh or call security.

“Pfft…” Someone was trying way too hard not to laugh. I wanted to disappear.

I realized what I’d just said and looked up at Eli.

His face was blank, but there was a smirk fighting its way onto his lips.

“Trying to sleep your way to the top?”

I was mortified, waving my hands like crazy. Someone please shoot me—what was I even saying?

My cheeks were burning. “No, no, I mean—I’d put the company first. Treat it like my own home.”

He just grunted.

Eli gave a dismissive snort, and the interview was over.

I had no idea why I still got an offer from Stonebridge Holdings.

Was Eli out for revenge?

Was he going to make my life hell?

All those worries vanished the second I saw my bank balance.

Especially since the salary was double what I used to make.

I stared at the offer letter, heart pounding. No way was I turning down that kind of money.

My first day at work was pure torture.

Word of my interview slip-up had already spread like wildfire before I even started.

Some coworkers even teased me to my face.

“Autumn, don’t forget us little folks when you become the boss’s wife! Go get ’em!”

I tried to laugh it off, but my face was on fire. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

Everyone scattered, leaving me alone with Eli.

Traitors.

Eli motioned for me to follow him to his office.

I shamelessly admired his figure from behind—his crisp white shirt fit perfectly over broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his tailored slacks showing off those long, muscular legs I knew way too well.

I couldn’t help but swallow hard.

Thankfully, Eli just paused, then kept walking.

Honestly, I regretted breaking up with him not long after it happened.

Guess you never know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Once you’ve had a taste, it’s hard to go back—especially when he’s that good.

No wonder I’m pushing thirty and still breaking out like a teenager.

Keep your phone on 24/7. You’re on call.

In my head, I called him every name in the book, but on my face? Sweet as sugar.

“Mr. Whitaker, what about overtime pay?”

Eli glanced up at me, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

“The company never shortchanges anyone who works hard. As long as you perform, bonuses won’t be an issue.”

Evil capitalist. Suddenly, everything I’d done to him in the past didn’t seem so bad.

Eli’s long fingers flipped through the files absentmindedly.

“If there’s nothing else, you can get back to work.”

“And please stop spreading rumors.”

I…

“You can go.”