The morning after the gala felt cruelly ordinary.
Sunlight slanted through Lily's blinds, far too bright for the way her body felt. She had tossed and turned most of the night, chased by the shadow of the staircase dream. Wells Carter's voice—her father's voice—still echoed in her ears. Lily… stay back. She jolted awake before dawn, heart pounding.
Now, trudging into Knight Enterprises with a too-hot coffee in one hand and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, Lily looked like someone who'd fought three wars and barely survived.
But inside, a tiny spark of pride flickered.
She'd done it. She'd stood in front of investors in glittering gowns and tuxedos, told them renewables were Rocky Balboa, and somehow walked away with applause instead of tomatoes.
That had to count for something.
The second she stepped onto her floor, however, she felt it.
Eyes. Whispers.
"She's the one who spoke to Mr. Chen."
"Knight let his assistant talk numbers?"
"Apparently, Chen actually laughed. Smiled, even."
"She must be his secret weapon."
"Secret weapon? Please. She's his favorite, that's all. He feeds her lines."
Lily's steps faltered. The pride in her chest shrank beneath the weight of gossip curling through the air like smoke.
Melissa swooped in, slipping an arm around Lily's shoulders. "Ignore them, rookie. They're just jealous they didn't get to compare solar panels to boxers in a ring."
Lily groaned. "Ugh, don't remind me. I still can't believe that came out of my mouth."
Melissa grinned. "Hey, it worked. You had Chen eating out of your hand. I thought he was going to ask for your autograph."
Lily let out a laugh, though her stomach was tight. "Yeah, but apparently the rest of the office thinks it was dumb luck. Or worse, that Alex handed me lines like a ventriloquist."
"Let them talk." Melissa shrugged. "You know what you did. And so does Knight. And believe me, that's what really scares them."
Lily bit her lip, wishing she could believe that. But the whispers didn't stop as she moved to her desk, sliding into her chair with more force than necessary.
She told herself it didn't matter. She told herself she'd brush it off.
But already, the flicker of pride she'd carried from the gala felt dangerously close to burning out.
_____________________
By mid-morning, Lily had already heard her name whispered a dozen times. Not in the normal "Oops, she spilled coffee again" way. This was sharper, edged with something that made her skin prickle.
Melissa dropped into the chair beside Lily's desk with a bag of pretzels and a grin that said she was thriving on the chaos. "Well, rookie, congratulations. You've officially made it. You're the talk of the office."
Lily groaned, resting her forehead dramatically on the desk. "Fantastic. Just what I always wanted—fame and fortune via corporate gossip."
Melissa chuckled, tearing open her snack. "Don't be so grumpy. I heard someone call you Knight's secret weapon."
"Secret weapon?" Lily lifted her head, squinting. "More like secret disaster waiting to happen. Honestly, I still can't believe I said that Rocky Balboa thing. I'm one bad metaphor away from comparing solar panels to cheese."
"Hey, own it," Melissa said, pointing a pretzel stick at her like it was a sword. "That was the most interesting thing those investors have heard in years. Do you know how many presentations they sit through with boring graphs and charts? You probably woke them up for the first time in a decade."
Lily tried to smile, but her chest tightened. "Yeah, but did I really impress them? Or were they just laughing at the girl who doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut?"
Melissa tilted her head. "Rookie, I saw Chen laugh. A real, honest-to-God laugh. The man's face almost cracked. You did that. Not Knight. Not dumb luck. You."
But the whispers that drifted across the office told a different story.
"She's only where she is because of him."
"She's young, clueless. No way she held her own without Knight's help."
"Bet he fed her lines before the gala. No assistant gets that kind of chance otherwise."
Each word dug under Lily's skin like a thorn. She fiddled with the edge of her notebook, her smile faltering.
Melissa noticed immediately. "Don't you dare spiral."
"I'm not spiraling," Lily lied. She stared down at her desk. "I'm just… recalculating. Like… what if they're right? What if it wasn't me they were impressed with, but just the novelty of Knight's pet assistant talking out of turn?"
Melissa leaned in, lowering her voice. "First of all, ew—don't ever use the word 'pet' in this office again, you'll fuel the rumor mill for weeks. Second, you did fine. More than fine. You nailed it."
Lily forced a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, nailed it so hard I still have boxing gloves on. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you—renewable energy, the heavyweight champion of the world!'"
Melissa laughed so hard she nearly spilled her pretzels. "God, I wish you'd actually said that."
"Don't tempt me. Next time I'll bring a bell and a robe."
The banter drew a few curious glances, but Lily's laughter faded quicker than Melissa's. Deep down, the whispers stuck.
She excused herself after a while and slipped into the women's restroom. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, too harsh against the mirror. She set her hands on the sink, staring at her reflection.
Her hair was neat, her lipstick intact, her navy blouse professional. She looked like someone who belonged here.
So why didn't it feel that way?
"Did they laugh with me," she whispered to her reflection, "or at me?"
Her chest tightened again. She could still feel Sebastian Brooks's voice curling in her ear at the gala, warning her about Alex. She shook her head hard, trying to push the thought away.
"Nope," she muttered, pointing at herself in the mirror. "We are not doing this. We are not letting random gossipers and shady tuxedo villains ruin this. You did good, Carter. You stood up there, you didn't puke, and you got Chen to smile. That's a win."
But when she stepped back into the hallway and caught two analysts smirking as she passed, the words inside her head felt thin, fragile.
Pride and insecurity tangled inside her like wires sparking in the dark.
And Lily Carter was nothing if not combustible.
____________________
Alexander Knight was not a man who indulged in idle chatter, but his ears were sharper than people realized. He caught whispers the way a predator caught movement in the brush: subtle, fleeting, but never missed.
The office buzzed with low voices as he stepped out of his glass-walled office for the first meeting of the day. He didn't break stride, his gait as precise and steady as ever, but fragments reached him.
"Did you hear what Chen said? He actually complimented her."
"Yeah, but come on—there's no way she did that on her own. Knight must've fed her every line."
"She's just his assistant. No way she suddenly turns into the company's golden girl overnight."
The corner of Alex's jaw tightened. His face remained impassive—cold, unreadable—but beneath the surface a sharp irritation sparked.
Not at the gossip itself; he'd lived with it for years. Knight Enterprises was a fortress of speculation. Every move he made was scrutinized, twisted, spread like wildfire. He was immune to it by now.
But this… this was different.
It was Lily's name being dragged across the coals, her work reduced to nothing more than "dumb luck" or "Knight's strings."
She had stood in front of Chen, voice trembling but spine straight, and somehow she'd found her rhythm. She had explained projections in a way that even the stiffest, most skeptical investor had leaned forward to listen. She had turned humor into strategy without even realizing it.
And now, instead of giving her credit, his own employees treated her like a pawn in his hand.
His hand curled into a loose fist at his side before he forced it to relax. Unnecessary tells had no place in his world.
He continued walking, his gaze sweeping across the bullpen. People ducked their heads quickly under his glance, pretending to be immersed in their screens. He didn't need to call them out. Silence was punishment enough when it came from him.
By the time he reached the conference room, his decision was already made.
He would not dignify gossip with words. But he would kill it with actions.
________________________
The weekly project review was underway. Teams filed in, laptops open, PowerPoints ready, their nervous energy palpable under his cool presence.
Alex stood at the head of the table, hands clasped behind his back, scanning the agenda with clinical precision. His voice cut through the room like steel when he began.
"Item three. Renewable energy projections—phase two. Carter."
Heads jerked up. A flicker of surprise rippled across the table. Lily, sitting halfway down, blinked.
"M-me?"
His eyes flicked to her, sharp, unwavering. "You handled phase one with Chen. You'll review phase two. Prepare the full report by Friday."
The room stilled.
No explanation. No preamble. Just command, spoken in the same tone he used for seasoned executives.
Lily's mouth opened, then closed. She nodded quickly, eyes wide, scribbling in her notebook like her life depended on it.
Across the table, he saw the shift—some employees exchanging glances, others frowning, a few skeptical, but all forced to register the undeniable truth: Alexander Knight had just put his trust in Lily Carter.
And he had done it in front of everyone.
Strategic. Efficient. A clear move.
That was the story he would tell himself.
But as the meeting continued, as numbers were debated and slides flicked past, his gaze returned to her more than once. She was biting her lip, furiously taking notes, her brows drawn in focus.
Her nerves were obvious. But so was her determination.
The irritation that had burned in his chest earlier eased slightly. Not gone—never gone—but tempered by something else. Something harder to name.
_____________________
Later, back in his office, he allowed himself a moment at the window, hands braced against the glass as the city stretched out beneath him.
The rumors would continue. That was inevitable. Success bred envy. Envy bred gossip.
But Lily didn't deserve to carry that weight alone.
So he'd done what he always did: turned the board in his favor. Strategic placement. Calculated trust. It sent a message stronger than words.
Still, as he closed his eyes briefly, the image of her face lingered—the way she had looked at him across the table, startled but proud. The way her cheeks had flushed when he'd said her name like she belonged in that room.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the thought away.
She was his assistant. A temporary piece on the board.
Nothing more.
And yet, the echo of her determination lingered, refusing to be dismissed as easily as he tried.