You are my secret

The email Aftermath

If I thought my Monday morning was bad, Tuesday proved it could get worse.

The first thing I saw when I got to my desk wasn’t my coffee, or my inbox, or even Marlene from HR eating her Greek yogurt like it personally wronged her.

No.

It was him.

Kellen Ward.

CEO.

Resident heart attack in human form.

Standing by my desk.

Looking like a million-dollar paycheck and my unemployment letter rolled into one.

“Oh… uh… good morning, Mr. Ward,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual while mentally calculating how long it would take to sell my furniture if I lost my job today.

He didn’t respond right away. Just tilted his head like I was a particularly interesting science experiment.

“Miss Rivers,” he finally said. “I read your email.”

My soul left my body, took an Uber, and never came back.

“I—uh—that wasn’t—” I stammered, searching for words, any words, preferably ones that didn’t sound like I was having a stroke.

“The one where you referred to me as ‘The CEO Who Thinks He’s God’s Gift to Earth’?” he continued, his mouth twitching in what might have been a smile, if smiles could be weapons.

My brain pulled the fire alarm. “It was… uh… an internal note. Meant for… personal reflection?”

Kellen leaned slightly closer. “Personal reflection?”

“Yes. Like… journaling. You know… for emotional health?” I said, waving my hands in what I hoped was a professional manner but probably looked more like I was trying to swat invisible flies.

He didn’t laugh, but his eyes sparkled in a way that suggested he wanted to.

“Well,” he said slowly, “for your emotional health, I suggest you be more careful with your email drafts. In the wrong hands, that kind of… honesty could be dangerous.”

Dangerous? What did that even mean?

Before I could ask, he straightened, adjusted his cufflinks like he’d just casually ruined my life, and added, “Also, you’ll be joining me in this afternoon’s meeting with the board.”

“Me?” I squeaked.

“Yes, you,” he said, already walking away. “Consider it… a professional challenge.”

Marlene from HR, who’d been pretending not to eavesdrop from the next desk, leaned over as soon as he was gone.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered, eyes wide. “You’re either getting a promotion or a funeral.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.