Chapter 3 Piece Of Cake

And I'm especially not marrying a clone of my brother.

Every single one of the hundred dossiers is just like him raised in the most expensive and exclusive neighborhoods, properly educated in private schools and, most importantly, drilled since childhood to put work above everything else.

Those men talk about shares, market caps, and dividends. To them, a wife is a means to a financially beneficial merger and acquisition...and then a proper heir to take over the empire when the time comes.

Birthdays and anniversaries are something their assistants keep track of and buy gifts for. If the wife is exceptionally lucky, she might get dinner with her husband. I don't want that. I want what my friends have.

Ivy's husband Tony never looked at her portfolio because she didn't have one. He married her because he loved her more than his own life.

Evie's husband Nate married her because he'd been in love with her for the longest time since she started working as his assistant.

Then there are Katherine and Williams...Jennifer and Edgar... Even my parents are in love. Dad makes time for Mom.

He lets her know she matters. Why should I have to settle for less, just because I happened to be born into a wealthy family? Charles sighs.

"If you want to reject the men Mother and Father have chosen, prove yourself." Wariness creeps over me.

My brother hates to lose. So there's going to be a major trap in this seemingly innocent dare. But there's no challenge I can't rise to.

And since I'd love nothing more than to show him I don't need one of those dossier men in my life, I keep my voice calm and confident.

"How?" "Survive on only what you can make. No falling back on the family connections or your friends. If you can prove that you're capable of that level of independence, sure, I'll back you when Father and Mother come after you with another list of bachelors."

Based on the cool confidence on his face, he's convinced I'm going to fail. But he isn't making an empty promise. My brother is many things, but he keeps his word.

He'll side with me if I can show him I don't need the family money to live. I smirk. "Piece of cake."

"You say that now, but wait until you have to downsize. You'll never be able to maintain your lifestyle on your own." A corner of his mouth quirks as his eyes flick toward my purse.

"Your bag costs more than what Ms. Helen makes in a month." I stand up, my gorgeous Dior clutched in my hand.

"Then maybe you should pay her better," I say, feeling sorry for Ms. Helen that my brother is such a cheapo.

"I'll email you when I have a job and the amazing independence you think I can't manage." Charles gives me a toothy smile.

"I wait with bated breath." I exit the office, my head held high. Ms. Helen stands up behind her desk. I shoot her a pitying look.

It must suck to have to buy all those expensive and pretty things for my brother's wife, but not be able to buy anything for herself. Ms. Helen goes slightly pale, and she clasps her hands together. Are they shaking?

Her eyes dart away. Why is she reacting like I'm about to push her off a cliff? Mr. Clifford is holding the doors open for the elevator. We all step inside. I gesture Ms. Katherine closer.

She steps forward until she's standing half a step behind me, with her body angled so she can whisper into my ear discreetly. "What's wrong with Ms. Helen?" "I think she suspects she's in trouble."

"This isn't the first time I've barged into Charles's office. He knows who to blame." I.e., me. And then Dad for indulging and spoiling me not that there's anything wrong with that.

"But you gave her that look." I turn my head. "What 'look'?" "Then I feel bad for you look. You always have it when somebody's in trouble with the chairman."

Ms. Katherine's being extra circumspect, but what she's trying to tell me is that I use that look whenever I have Dad demote or fire somebody.

I've only done it a handful of times when I caught somebody stealing or being grossly negligent. Besides, I have never suggested to Dad how he should handle any particular matter.

I leave that part entirely up to him because he knows best how to manage the people who work at the company. It's just that Dad quietly does what I think he should do.

"Ms. Helen has nothing to worry about. I was feeling bad for her for an entirely different reason."

Ms. Katherine's phone buzzes. She checks a message, then puts it away. All my other assistants' phones start going off as well. The elevator arrives at the lobby, and I march out first.

"Ms. Katherine, can you make me a list of all job openings I can apply for with my skill set? Nothing from the Golden Gate Group or its affiliates, though."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Ben, but I don't work for you anymore." Ms. Katherine's voice is tight and uncomfortable. If a voice could squirm... I stop, turning to face her.

"What are you talking about?" "I received a message from HR. I'm to report to the admin pool." Shit. My stomach sinks. That was quick. Petty jerk.

"What about your assignment? To spill mean, report to my mom about what I'm doing?" "I suppose that's over as well." Her shoulders are high and tense.

She looks confused and upset. Probably dreading what this is about. Since she knows I'm not angry with her, she might be thinking it's my mom who's unhappy with her performance.

And annoying my mom is never a good thing if you want to have a long and fruitful career at the company.

But I know for a fact it isn't Mom who did this. It's Charles. He's trying to ensure I have nobody around to help me. Asshole. I smile at Ms. Katherine.

"Well then. I wish you luck. Hope you have a good assignment." "Thank you, Ms. Ben." She bows and leaves. I turn to Mr. Clifford.

"How about you? Do you have to leave too?"