THE CODEPENDENT CEO: UNEXPECTED LIES

CHAPTER ONE --- *MY CODEPENDENT CEO: Unexpected Lies* *Chapter 1: The Interview* *By Ani's Page* Peterson Alison didn't get hired for her degree. She knew it the moment Hales Carlos slid her CV aside without really looking. Three seconds. That was all he gave to two years of First Class in Business Administration from Uniport, to the internship at Indorama, to the carefully typed cover letter she had rewritten seven times. He slid it aside and stared at her instead. "Can you handle someone difficult?" he asked. His office was too cold. That was the first thing she noticed. Floor-to-ceiling glass, the kind that made Port Harcourt look beautiful and distant, like a painting. The AC was at 16 degrees. On his desk, a cold cup of coffee, a stack of unopened files, and a family photo turned face down. He was 32, CEO of Hales Logistics, one of the biggest logistics firms on Peter Odili Road. White shirt wrinkled. Tie loose. Eyes red like he hadn't slept in days. Handsome in a tired way. "I handle difficult well," Alison said. Her voice shook a little. She is 24. Broke. Her rent due tomorrow. Her mother had called that morning saying "Alison, if you don't get this job, come back to the village." He leaned forward. Studying her. "My last assistant left without notice. No handover. No goodbye. She sent one email at 2am. Three words. 'You are too much.'" "Are you?" Alison asked before she could stop herself. He smiled for the first time. A sad, broken smile. "I work 18 hours a day, Alison. I forget to eat. I forget meetings. I forget my own birthday. Last week I forgot my mother's funeral anniversary. My sister hasn't spoken to me since. I need someone who doesn't forget me. Someone who stays." It sounded romantic. It wasn't supposed to be. It sounded like a warning she didn't hear. "I need you, Alison. Not just your CV. You. Your eyes don't run away when I talk. The last three girls, they looked at the floor." Her name in his mouth felt heavy. Personal. They had just met five minutes ago. "The pay," he said, pushing a paper toward her. "Check it." Alison looked. And her breath stopped. Triple what Total, Shell, and Agip had offered for graduate trainee. Plus medical. Plus a car. Plus an apartment allowance in GRA. It was too good to be true. That should have been her second warning. "There is one rule in this office," he said, his voice suddenly hard. "Don't lie to me, Peterson. I hate lies. My ex-wife lied for five years. I can smell a lie from a mile away." "I don't lie," Alison said. He nodded. "Good." Later she would learn he lied in every sentence. That the ex-wife didn't lie - he did. That the last assistant didn't quit because he was too much work - she quit because he called her at midnight crying. That the coffee on his desk wasn't his - it was his father's, who had died and left him the company at 28. "When do you start?" he asked. "Monday? I can start Monday. So I can-" "No. Today. Now." Alison laughed, thinking it was a joke. A CEO joke. He wasn't joking. He pressed a button on his desk. In thirty seconds, two office boys brought in a brand new desk, a MacBook, a leather chair, and placed it right outside his glass office. Not in the general assistant pool. Right there. Where he could see her. Where she could see him. "I like to see the person who holds my life together," he said simply. By 11am, she was answering his emails. His inbox had 4,321 unread messages. By 12pm, she was rescheduling his meetings because he had double-booked three times. By 1pm, she was ordering his lunch - no onions, extra pepper, he texted her - and cancelling calls from a woman saved as "LISA - DO NOT PICK." At 2pm, the HR lady came to give her a contract. Six-month probation. One clause highlighted in yellow: "The personal assistant must be available outside normal working hours when required by the CEO." "That's normal for this level," HR whispered. "Don't worry." At 6pm, everyone left. The whole 4th floor emptied. Lights off. Security came to lock up. He stayed. In his glass office, head in his hands. Alison stayed because he stayed. She didn't know why. "You can go, Peterson," he said without looking up. He had started calling her by her surname. "You haven't gone, sir," she said. He looked up then. And his eyes were wet. Not crying. Just wet. Lonely. He looked at her like she had just solved a puzzle no one else could solve for four years. "See?" he whispered. "I told you I needed you. On day one, you already know." Alison walked home that night through the rain, no keke money, her new staff ID card clutched in her hand. She felt chosen. Special. Important. In a city of 3 million unemployed graduates, Hales Carlos chose her. She got home to her one-room in D-Line, took off her wet shoes, and saw 3 missed calls from her mother and one new text from an unknown number. It was him. *Hales Carlos: You got home safe? Good. See you tomorrow 6am. Don't be late. - C* She smiled. Her CEO checking on her. She didn't know chosen was the first sign of codependent. She didn't know 6am meant he would own her mornings. And nights. She typed back: *Yes sir. Goodnight.* He replied instantly: *Good girl.* And for some reason, that made her stomach flip. ---