Chapter 8 The Unexpected Promotion

Barbara's POV

The announcement jolted me out of my daydream. Around me, my colleagues were already gathering notebooks and pens, exchanging confused glances.

I followed the stream of bodies flowing toward Conference Room C and found a seat in the back corner, tucking myself behind a tall guy. The lights buzzed overhead as the room filled with the sounds of chair legs scraping against carpet and muffled conversations.

Layla Lynd, our department head, strode to the front of the room. "Good morning, everyone," she began, her voice crisp as fresh banknotes. "Just a few reminders before we start the week."

What followed was the usual litany of administrative minutiae that could have been an email. Proper dress code (no open-toed shoes, even in summer). Punctuality expectations (which made me shrink a little in my seat). Proper use of the break room microwave (clean up your splatters, monsters).

My eyelids grew heavy as Layla's voice droned on. I found myself staring at the geometric pattern of the acoustic ceiling tiles, counting the small holes in each panel.

"—and finally, I would like to announce a staffing change," Layla said, her voice suddenly cutting through my daze. "Barbara Cooper, please stand."

My head snapped up and fifty pairs of eyes swiveled in my direction. I rose to my feet, my legs wobbly beneath me.

"Effective immediately, Barbara Cooper will be taking on the role of Administrative Assistant," Layla announced, her face impassive. "Please give her your congratulations."

She began to clap, a sharp, percussive sound that seemed more like a command than a celebration. Others joined in with varying degrees of enthusiasm, a smattering of obligatory applause that died quickly.

"That's all for today," Layla concluded, gathering her papers. "Back to work, everyone."

The room erupted into motion and murmurs as people filed out. I remained rooted to the spot, my mind spinning like a hamster wheel going nowhere. When the crowd thinned enough for me to move without bumping into anyone, I hurried after Layla, catching her in the hallway.

"Excuse me, Ms. Lynd," I called, my voice pitched higher than normal. She turned, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in question.

"Um, what just happened?" I asked, then immediately regretted my phrasing. "I mean, am I being promoted?"

Layla's face remained a perfect mask of professional neutrality. "That is correct."

"But why? I've only been here two years, and the policy is—"

"I received the directive from HR this morning," she cut me off, her tone making it clear she wasn't any happier about this than I was. "As for the reason, I'm afraid I wasn't consulted."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway as other employees streamed past, some openly staring, others whispering behind cupped hands.

What the hell just happened?

Even with my limited experience at Gardener Group, I knew the rigid promotion schedule. Interns had to complete three months before they could become regular employees. Regular employees had to put in at least three years before they could be considered for an assistant position, and that was with stellar performance reviews and their supervisor's recommendation.

I had only been here two years. This wasn't just bending the rules — it was snapping them in half and setting the pieces on fire.

As I made my way back to my desk, I could feel the weight of stares following me, hear the hushed conversations that stopped abruptly when I passed. The message couldn't have been clearer: Something's not right about this promotion.

I ducked into the ladies' room, needing a moment to process. I had barely locked myself in a stall when the door swung open and multiple sets of footsteps entered, accompanied by voices.

"—complete bullshit," someone was saying, her voice pitched with indignation. "Cooper's been here what, two years?"

"Two years next month," another voice confirmed.

"And suddenly she's Administrative Assistant? Please." The first voice dripped with scorn. "What the fuck is happening?"

"Oh, I think we all know what happened," a third voice chimed in, lower and insinuating. "Question is, who did she happen to?"

They laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that scraped against my ears.

"Seriously though," the first voice continued, "what does Barbara Cooper have that the rest of us don't? She's not even that good at her job. Remember that time she sent the quarterly report to the wrong department?"

"That was her first month," the second voice pointed out, though she didn't sound particularly defensive.

"Still. What makes her so special? Who's she screwing to get ahead?"

I pressed my hand against my mouth, the unfairness of it burning in my chest. I was good at my job, dammit. I worked hard. I stayed late. I double-checked everything. One mistake in my first month didn't define my entire performance.

"Whatever," the third voice said. "We all know this isn't the last time somebody less qualified gets ahead. That's just how the world works."

Their voices faded as they left, while I sat on the closed toilet lid, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. All I had ever wanted was to be judged on my merits, to prove myself through hard work and dedication. Now, because of some mysterious promotion I hadn't even asked for, everyone thought I was... what? Sleeping my way to the top?

Oh god. Levi.

The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. This had to be his doing. Somehow, my new "husband" had arranged this promotion. But why?

By the time I returned to my desk, I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost jumped out of my skin when someone appeared, clearing their throat softly. "Congratulations, Barbara!"

I looked up to find Jenny Garfield — our department's newest intern, a petite 21-year-old with a perpetually sunny disposition — beaming down at me. She placed a shiny red apple on my desk with a flourish.

"An apple for the teacher," she said with a giggle.

Despite everything, I felt a small smile tug at my lips. In a morning full of cold shoulders and suspicious glares, Jenny's genuine enthusiasm was like a ray of sunshine.

"Thanks, Jenny," I said, picking up the apple. "That's really sweet of you."

"I'm so happy for you," she continued, perching on the edge of my desk. "I've learned so much from you already, and now I get to take over your old position! It's like the universe is looking out for both of us."

Her optimism was contagious, making my dark mood lift slightly. "Well, I guess we should start going through the transition then," I said, pulling out my files. "There's quite a lot to cover."

We spent the next hour going through my current projects, with me explaining processes and Jenny taking meticulous notes in her color-coded notebook. I had to admit, the girl was sharp. She picked up concepts quickly and asked intelligent questions. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Oh my gosh," Jenny suddenly exclaimed, grabbing my left hand. "I never noticed it before."

I followed her gaze to the simple band on my finger.