Chapter 3: Miss Sterling, You Can Insult Me Directly
1036 Words
The first time I officially met Evelyn Hart was in the twenty-seventh-floor conference room of Sterling Group.
After graduation, I joined the company under the strategy department.
On paper, I was an intern.
In reality, everyone knew I was Richard Sterling’s daughter.
That morning, after the executive meeting, my father called me into his office.
Evelyn was organizing documents for him.
When I entered, she looked up and smiled perfectly.
“Miss Sterling.”
I paused.
She said the title too naturally.
Not humble.
Not flattering.
Not deliberately sweet.
As if she were truly just a well-trained assistant who understood her place.
My father sat behind his desk with the rare expression of a loving father.
“Chloe, if you don’t understand anything at the company, you can ask Evelyn.”
I laughed.
“Ask her?”
My father frowned.
“Evelyn is capable.”
“Is she?”
I walked to Evelyn and picked up a document from her desk.
It was a preliminary report for a merger project.
I flipped through it casually.
“Assistant Hart, do you know why this company’s net profit dropped thirty percent last year?”
Evelyn glanced at me.
Her voice was calm.
“Because they changed their supply chain in the second half of the year. The increased cost is only the surface. The real problem is the loss of key clients.”
I raised an eyebrow.
She continued, “But Sterling Group should not focus only on current profit. The company owns two important patents and several valuable distribution channels. If the acquisition price can be lowered, the deal is not a loss.”
My father’s eyes showed satisfaction.
I placed the document back.
“You memorized that well.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Thank you for the compliment, Miss Sterling.”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
“I’ll take it as one.”
At that moment, I understood why Lucas had failed.
Evelyn was not a woman who had never seen money.
She knew exactly what she wanted.
Beauty was only her weakest card.
Her true skill was making everyone believe she knew her limits.
In front of my father, she was gentle, intelligent, and obedient.
In front of colleagues, she was friendly but untouchable.
In front of me, she called me Miss Sterling without looking inferior.
I hated her.
I also admired her a little.
That afternoon, I deliberately asked her to accompany me to a project site.
The driver drove.
I sat in the back.
She sat in the passenger seat.
Neither of us spoke for a long time.
Finally, I asked, “Evelyn Hart, how much does my father pay you?”
The driver’s hands shook slightly, and the car swayed.
Evelyn looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“Which aspect are you referring to, Miss Sterling?”
I smiled.
“What do you think?”
After a pause, she said, “My salary follows company standards. Bonuses depend on performance.”
“What about the apartment? The car? The jewelry? Are those performance bonuses too?”
She finally turned to look at me.
There was no shame on her face.
No anger either.
Only a faint smile.
“Miss Sterling, if you want to insult me, you can do it directly.”
“Would insulting you be useful?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t.”
She looked at me.
“Then what do you want?”
I met her gaze and said slowly, “I want to know whether someone like you has a bottom line.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“I may disappoint you.”
“How?”
“My bottom line is not high.”
She said it calmly.
As if she were talking about the weather.
For some reason, that made me irritated.
I would have preferred her to pretend to be wronged.
To pretend to be innocent.
To pretend she had no choice.
Then I could hate her more easily.
But she admitted everything.
She admitted she was realistic.
She admitted she was dirty.
She admitted she was not a good person.
My hatred hit cotton.
The project site was in the suburbs.
It was hot that day, and there was a problem with the construction team. We stayed until eight in the evening.
I had been spoiled since childhood. I skipped dinner, and my stomach began to hurt.
Evelyn noticed.
On the way back, she told the driver to stop at a pharmacy.
I frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying medicine.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Your face is pale.”
She got out of the car and quickly came back with medicine and a bottle of warm water.
I stared at the medicine she handed me.
I did not take it.
“Are you this thoughtful when you serve my father too?”
Her lips curved.
“Mr. Sterling’s stomach is better than yours.”
I sneered.
“He’s healthy. Are you disappointed?”
She pushed the medicine into my hand.
“Miss Sterling, the one in pain is your stomach, not mine.”
I stared at her for a few seconds.
Finally, I took the medicine.
It tasted bitter.
Then she handed me a piece of candy.
I froze.
“Where did this come from?”
“From the pharmacy.”
I did not take it.
She did not urge me.
She only opened her palm.
The candy wrapper was orange.
It lay in her pale hand, painfully bright.
Suddenly, I remembered when I was very young.
My mother used to give me candy like this.
Every time she took me to the hospital for injections, she would keep a few orange candies in her pocket.
Later, my mother got sick.
No one remembered that I was afraid of bitterness anymore.
I took the candy, unwrapped it, and placed it in my mouth.
It was sweet.
Too sweet.
Sweet enough to make me annoyed.
I turned to look out the window and stopped talking.
Evelyn also fell silent.
Her side profile was reflected in the car window.
Beautiful.
Quiet.
Gentle.
As if she had no idea I was thinking about how to destroy her.
- Writer
