Chapter 1

The second my boss, Greg Miller, saw the $2,300 travel expense on my reimbursement form, he called me straight into his office.

"Why the hell is your round-trip travel expense twenty-three hundred dollars?"

"Flights are on sale right now. A round-trip ticket is barely a thousand bucks. Are you telling me you didn't know that?"

I said calmly, "I knew. But company policy clearly states that regular staff on business trips must take Amtrak."

He slammed his hand on the desk, furious. "Flights are cheaper! Why can’t you think about the company for once and learn to be flexible?"

I looked him in the eye. "Company policy also states that flight tickets will not be reimbursed under any circumstances. Mr. Miller, I wouldn't dare break the rules."

Greg’s face darkened.

He glared at me with sheer contempt in his eyes.

"Avery, you’re a smart girl. Stop playing dumb when you know damn well what I mean."

"Rules are rigid, but people are flexible."

"Telling you to be flexible is an opportunity I'm handing to you."

I lowered my gaze, staring at the expense form his finger had aggressively crumpled.

"Mr. Miller, Accounting only looks at the receipts, not the person."

"It's written in black and white. I wouldn't dare cause trouble for you or Mrs. Miller."

I deliberately put extra weight on "Mrs. Miller."

Rachel Miller, Greg's wife, was our CFO.

More than half of the company's handbook came from her own hands. She was so notoriously stingy that every single sheet of paper had to be printed double-sided.

Her signature was stamped right on the first page of that thick employee handbook.

The moment Rachel was mentioned, Greg's arrogant fire died down.

He tossed the form back across the desk to me.

"Have your assistant rewrite it. Put down 'No discounted flights available' as the reason."

"Don't let it happen again."

I held the paper, standing completely still.

"Mr. Miller, Chloe processed a similar claim for a colleague last month. Mrs. Miller issued a company-wide reprimand and docked half her bonus."

"I’m not throwing her under the bus."

Greg’s patience finally snapped.

"Get the hell out."

I turned around and walked out without another word.

The second the door swung shut, a porcelain mug smashed against the inside of the door with a dull thud.

Back at my cubicle, the entire floor was dead silent.

My coworkers kept their heads down, their typing suspiciously soft.

My assistant, Chloe, scurried over, her face pale with worry.

"Avery, are you okay?"

I handed her the reimbursement slip.

"I’m fine."

"Process it normally as an Amtrak ticket. If Accounting rejects it, send it directly to my desk."

Chloe turned even paler. "But Mrs. Miller..."

"Just do as I said."

I unlocked my laptop, and my screen pulled up the proposal for the upcoming International Arts Gala.

This was our biggest account for the second half of the year. The client was none other than the industry titan, The Ford Group.

I had pulled two consecutive all-nighters to finalize this first draft.

An hour later, the internal line rang. It was Greg.

"Avery, bring your proposal to my office."

His tone was flat, completely composed.

I grabbed my laptop and stepped back into his office.

A few broken porcelain shards still lay scattered on the rug, uncleaned.

Greg was sitting on the leather couch. Across from him sat a man.

The man wore an impeccably tailored charcoal suit. He carried an aura of quiet power, a Patek Philippe gleaming on his wrist.

Greg instantly put on a flattering grin and stood up to introduce me.

"Avery, come on in! This is Mr. Ford from The Ford Group."

"Mr. Ford, this is Avery Clark, the senior project planner I mentioned. She’s our sharpest mind."

Mr. Ford stood up and extended a hand toward me.

"Marcus Ford."

His grip was warm, dry, and firm.

"It's a pleasure, Ms. Clark. I've heard a lot about you."

I gave him a professional nod. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ford."

Greg eagerly waved me into a chair and plugged my laptop into the projector.

"Avery, hurry up and walk Mr. Ford through your vision."

I took a deep breath and began my pitch.

From venue curation to run-of-show logistics and high-level security protocols, I walked him through every detail.

Marcus Ford listened quietly the entire time. Occasionally, when I paused, he fired off one or two razor-sharp questions.

Every single question he asked was about execution details and contingency plans.

An hour later, my presentation wrapped up.

Greg was practically falling over himself pouring more tea for Marcus, his face stretched into a sycophantic smile.

"Mr. Ford, what do you think of this plan?"

"Avery is our absolute ace. You won’t find a flaw."

Marcus didn't even glance at Greg. His eyes stayed locked on me.

"Ms. Clark, the framework is solid. But details make or break an event."

"I have only one non-negotiable standard: every single guest I invite, from touchdown to departure, must receive the highest standard of security and luxury."

"I do not want to see a single trace of 'cost-cutting' anywhere in this project."

His words struck like a silent slap across Greg's face.

I met his gaze head-on. "Mr. Ford, that is my golden rule as well."

Marcus smiled faintly.

"Excellent."

"I will have my legal team draw up the contract immediately."

He stood up to leave.

Greg scrambled after him, bowing and nodding all the way to the elevator bay.

I stayed behind, looking at the bold words glowing on the projector screen: "Project Core: Safety and Uncompromising Quality."