My phone rang at the worst possible moment. I was already humiliated enough standing in the Sterling Group lobby, being dressed down by Fiona and the receptionist. Now I had to fumble for my vibrating phone while everyone stared.
The caller ID made my stomach drop. "Grandson" was calling—Arthur Sterling himself—right as his physical self stood across the lobby, staring at me with those cold, calculating eyes.
I silenced the call quickly, but not before noticing the odd look on Arthur Sterling's face. Had he just tried calling someone who didn't answer? The timing was too perfect to be coincidence.
"Mr. Sterling," the receptionist simpered, completely transformed now that the CEO had appeared. "I was just explaining to this... woman that you don't take unscheduled appointments."
Arthur's gaze never left my face. "And who is this woman?"
Before I could speak, Fiona slid between us like a snake. "My unfortunate stepsister, Elara. I apologize for her intrusion. She has a habit of... overstepping boundaries."
I lifted my chin. "I'm here on legitimate business."
"Is that so?" Arthur's voice was deep and measured, betraying nothing.
The receptionist scoffed. "She claimed to have an appointment with you, sir. When I informed her she wasn't in the system, she insisted you would want to see her about a 'personal matter.'"
The way she emphasized those last words made me sound like some desperate groupie. I watched Arthur's expression harden, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.
"I'm not here for what you think," I said firmly. "I'm—"
"She's clearly trying to use her connection to me to get to you," Fiona interrupted, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Ever since my engagement to Caleb, she's been... unstable. First crashing our engagement party, now this."
Arthur's assistant—a tall man with glasses who had appeared silently at his boss's side—cleared his throat. "Sir, are you still waiting for the HVAC technician? The top floor is unbearable."
"What technician?" Arthur turned to his assistant, annoyed. "Philip, what are you talking about?"
Philip consulted his tablet. "The air conditioning unit in the executive floor broke down last night. Maintenance called in an outside specialist. They were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago."
The receptionist straightened in her chair. "No technician has checked in, sir."
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out my work permit and company ID. "That would be me. I'm from Aurora Technical Services. I've been standing here for twenty minutes trying to do my job."
The silence that followed was almost worth the humiliation I'd endured.
Arthur's eyes narrowed as he examined my credentials. "You're the HVAC specialist?"
"Among other things." I kept my voice neutral. "Industrial and residential climate systems are my specialty."
The receptionist sputtered. "But—but she never mentioned—"
"Did you ask?" Arthur's cold question cut her off.
Fiona recovered first, her laugh too high-pitched to be natural. "Elara, fixing air conditioners? That's... unexpected. I thought you worked at some coffee shop."
I didn't bother looking at her. "Your assumption. Not my reality."
Arthur's face remained unreadable as he handed back my credentials. "Philip, take Ms. Dubois to the executive floor. Make sure she has whatever she needs to fix the system."
"Yes, sir." Philip nodded, gesturing for me to follow him.
As I moved to leave, Arthur's voice stopped me. "Ms. Dubois."
I turned, meeting his eyes directly. "Yes?"
"How long will the repairs take?"
"Depends on the issue. Two hours, maybe three."
He nodded. "Ms. Winters," he addressed the receptionist without looking at her, "clear out your desk. You're terminated, effective immediately. Security will escort you out."
The woman's face drained of color. "But, Mr. Sterling—"
"Competence and professionalism are non-negotiable requirements at Sterling Group. You've demonstrated neither today."
With that, he turned and walked toward the elevators, pulling out his phone as he went. Behind me, I heard the receptionist begin to sob.
I followed Philip to a separate elevator, feeling Fiona's venomous glare burning into my back. I'd pay for this encounter later, but for now, I'd take the small victory.
As we rode up in silence, my phone vibrated with a text message.
Grandson: Call declined. Are you still in the lobby?
My fingers hovered over the screen. If Arthur Sterling was indeed "Grandson," then he'd just witnessed that entire humiliating scene. More importantly, he now knew I was working under his roof as a technician, not the desperate social climber he'd assumed.
I typed carefully: Had to silence the call. Already inside the building. Will explain later.
Philip cleared his throat. "The executive floor houses Mr. Sterling's office and several conference rooms. The control panel for the AC system is in the utility room behind the reception area."
"Thank you," I said, grateful for his professional demeanor.
"I should warn you—Mr. Sterling is... particular about his environment. The temperature must be exactly 72 degrees. Not 71, not 73."
I nodded. "I understand."
When the elevator doors opened, I was hit with a wall of heat. Someone had propped open doors and set up fans, but the large glass windows magnified the summer sun, turning the floor into a greenhouse.
Philip led me to the utility room. "All the tools and equipment should be here. Let me know if you need anything else."
Left alone, I began my assessment of the system. The problem was immediately obvious—a burned-out compressor and some damaged wiring. Nothing I couldn't handle, but it would take time.
I was halfway through the repairs when my phone vibrated again.
Grandson: Are you the technician working on the executive floor?
My heart skipped. So it was him. I typed back: Yes. Replacing the compressor now. Should be done in about an hour.
The response came quickly: Meet me in my office when you're finished.
I stared at the message, uncertain how to respond. This was my opportunity to finally speak with him about our bizarre marriage situation, but somehow the prospect was more intimidating now that I'd seen him in person.
I finished the repairs methodically, testing the system until the air began to cool properly. After cleaning up my workspace and packing my tools, I sent a quick text to "Grandson."
Need Iron: System restored. Where is your office?
His reply was immediate: End of the hallway. Door marked "CEO."
Taking a deep breath, I walked down the corridor. Each step felt heavier than the last. This man had the power to either sign our divorce papers immediately or make my life incredibly difficult.
I paused outside his office, hand raised to knock, when the door swung open.
Arthur Sterling stood there, tall and imposing in his perfectly tailored suit. Up close, he was even more intimidating—sharp features, penetrating eyes, not a hair out of place. The very picture of cold, calculating power.
"Ms. Dubois," he said, his deep voice betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Or should I call you 'Need Iron'?"
I met his gaze steadily. "And you're 'Grandson.'"
"Come in." He stepped aside, gesturing to a chair in front of his massive desk.
I took a seat, setting my toolbox beside me. The office was immaculate and minimalist—all clean lines and neutral colors, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
He remained standing, studying me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. "You're not what I expected."
"Neither are you," I countered, though it wasn't entirely true. Arthur Sterling was exactly as imposing and cold as the rumors suggested.
"You've been caring for my grandmother for over a week now," he stated. "Why didn't you tell me who you really were?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Would you have hired me if I had?"
A slight twitch of his lips was his only reaction. "Fair point. And now we find ourselves in an... interesting situation."
"That's one way to put it."
He walked around his desk and sat down, leaning forward slightly. "My grandmother's health has improved remarkably under your care. The doctor is quite impressed."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"And yet," he continued, "you're also supposedly my wife, working as an HVAC technician, and somehow connected to Fiona Dubois, my nephew's fiancée."
I kept my expression neutral. "I didn't choose any of those connections. Especially not the marriage part."
Something flashed in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps. Or suspicion. "Why did you come here today? The real reason."
My phone buzzed again in my pocket. I ignored it, focusing on the man before me. This was the moment of truth.
"I came to discuss our divorce," I said simply. "I need those papers signed as soon as possible."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, studying me with that same unreadable expression. Then he pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and looked back at me.
"Your phone is ringing again," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "Aren't you going to answer it?"
I reached for my phone, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. The screen showed an incoming call from "Grandson"—even as Arthur Sterling sat across from me, watching my reaction with calculated intensity.
"Well?" he prompted. "Aren't you going to answer?"