MARRIED TO MY MISTAKE

Chapter 2 — New Faces, Old Ghosts

The hum of fluorescent lights overhead blended with the soft click of heels and low murmurs of employees at workstations. The eleventh floor of ColeTech’s headquarters smelled faintly of brewed coffee, printer ink, and something sterile—like glass too often wiped down with lemon-scented disinfectant.

Rhea adjusted the thin strap of her black handbag on her shoulder and stepped off the elevator. She stood out—not just because she was new, but because she carried herself like someone who didn’t belong yet acted like she did.

The receptionist at the front desk—a man too invested in his Sudoku puzzle—glanced up lazily.

“You’re the new assistant?” he asked, only half-looking.

Rhea nodded. “Rhea Blackwell. First day.”

He barely blinked before gesturing toward the corridor to the right. “HR’s down the hall. Conference Room C.”

She gave a polite smile and walked forward. Her heels clicked with purpose, but her insides twisted with something colder. Nerves? Not quite. She had spent too long preparing for this moment. Every step she took inside this building was rehearsed, down to the gentle tug at her sleeve to make sure it sat just right on her wrist.

Rhea Blackwell didn't exist five months ago. But here, now—she was real.

She passed rows of desks where people stole glances at her, curious but not unkind. Some were openly assessing, as office culture always went. One woman in a sharp burgundy blazer eyed her up and down, then whispered something to her seatmate, who stifled a smirk.

Rhea didn’t flinch.

She’d faced worse than gossip.

**

When she reached the glass-walled conference room, a tall woman in her early thirties with sleek hair and a clipboard stood just inside the door. Her name badge read Catherine Ward, and unlike the receptionist, she was alert, professional, and curious.

“Rhea Blackwell?” she asked, her voice crisp but not cold.

“Yes.” Rhea extended her hand.

Catherine’s handshake was firm, the kind of shake that said she was used to being in control of situations—even introductions.

“I’ll be onboarding you today. We keep things fast here, so stay sharp.” She offered a small smile then motioned her inside. “We’ll start with basics. You'll be shadowing under Thomas Langley in Marketing. He handpicked your resume. Seemed impressed.”

“That’s flattering,” Rhea replied smoothly.

Catherine arched a brow. “He rarely is.”

The session that followed was all structure—company policies, protocols, security access cards. Catherine didn’t waste time with pleasantries, but she wasn’t harsh either. Just efficient.

“Have you worked in a firm this size before?” she asked midway through their rundown.

“Not exactly,” Rhea admitted. “But I adapt quickly.”

“You’ll need to.” Catherine’s gaze lingered. “ColeTech is fast-paced. Mistakes aren’t forgiven easily.”

That line hung heavy in the air, but Rhea only nodded.

They wrapped up an hour later, and Catherine led her toward the elevators again.

“You’ll be working on the twelfth floor with the marketing team,” Catherine explained as they stepped inside. “Mostly analytics and content development. Occasionally, you’ll liaise with executive staff. Just... avoid stepping on toes. People here are territorial.”

“And you?” Rhea asked before she could stop herself.

Catherine’s lips twitched. “I step where I please.”

Rhea laughed—genuinely—and for a moment, Catherine looked surprised.

“I think we’ll get along,” Rhea added.

“We’ll see.”

**

The marketing department was a different beast. Brighter, noisier, full of moving parts. Conversations buzzed over cubicles, whiteboards were scrawled with half-finished pitches, and someone had spilled what smelled like an entire bottle of vanilla-scented hand lotion.

Rhea followed Catherine until they reached a cubicle near the windows.

“This is yours,” Catherine said. “Thomas will check in later. Settle in.”

Before leaving, she glanced over her shoulder. “By the way—nice watch. Vintage Omega?”

Rhea blinked. “Yes. Belonged to my father.”

Catherine didn’t respond—just nodded, almost thoughtfully, and walked off.

**

Left alone, Rhea slid into the swivel chair and stared at the desktop.

This was it. The empire that had taken everything from her. She was inside now.

She opened her bag, pulled out a small leather-bound notebook, and flipped to the page with the sketch she drew weeks ago: the ColeTech logo, surrounded by a spider Web.

In the center was a name. Not just any name.

Damian Cole.

She hadn’t met him yet. But that would change soon.

And when it did?

Let the games begin.