Chapter 2: The Promotion, the Crush, the Crash

Rumor had it CEO Caleb Foster just got back from Europe. I looked up and—bam—locked eyes with him. Not to brag, but I’ve run with every crowd in New York, and I’d never seen anyone this jaw-dropping.

He wore a dark, clearly expensive suit. Tall, lean, the kind of guy you imagine negotiating million-dollar deals before breakfast. High brow bones, sharp nose, and a presence that screamed ‘untouchable.’ Broad shoulders, narrow waist—definitely hit the gym. Gorgeous, but with a face that said, ‘don’t even try.’

My team leader all but sprinted over, grinning: “Mr. Foster, any instructions?”

Caleb looked at me. For a second, I braced for a lecture. Instead, he just cleared his throat and said, “It’s time to clock out.”

Everyone cheered and started packing up. I was already halfway out the door. Caleb followed right behind me. No one else dared leave before the big boss, but my sushi reservation was calling—they don’t hold tables!

In my little heels, I slipped into the elevator. Caleb took a long stride and joined me. I moved to the side, trying to look casual.

“Miss Taylor.”

“Hmm?”

The CEO actually remembers every employee’s name? That’s a disaster for someone making three grand a month!

“There’s an AI chip launch in San Francisco next Wednesday.”

Why are you telling me this? Who talks shop after hours? Unless you’re doubling my pay, I don’t care how handsome you are.

I just gave a perfunctory, “Oh.”

“You’ll come with me.” He paused, then added, “Oh, and finance will bump your salary to fifty grand a month.”

Caleb had already stepped out, leaving me stunned in the elevator.

My heart hammered so loud I was sure everyone could hear it over the whir of the elevator cables. I actually pinched my own arm. Nope, not dreaming. Unless this was some elaborate HR hazing ritual.

Did I just get promoted for leaving work on time? Maybe money does fall from the sky sometimes!

I immediately messaged my dad: “Daddy, I’m going to San Francisco! I’m so happy!” I tried to type a chill “Cool, thanks” but ended up sending five heart emojis instead.

Sent him a flurry of cutesy cat stickers.

Camellia: “Mm.”

As the elevator doors shut behind me, I caught my reflection—dumbfounded, giddy, maybe even a little suspicious. My phone buzzed in my palm, but I was too busy wondering if I’d just won the lottery or walked into a corporate prank show. For the first time since I’d moved out, I felt the stirrings of something electric—freedom, maybe, or just a new kind of chaos.