Love lies and a billionaire’s secret

CHAPTER FORTY–ONE–NEW REALITIES

Nia’s heels clicked against the polished floor as she approached Mr. Hartley’s office. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever task her demanding boss had in store for her today. Knocking lightly, she heard his gruff “Come in” and pushed open the door.

Mr. Hartley barely looked up from his computer as Nio entered. “Ah, Moreno. Good. I’ve got a special assignment for you.”

Nia’s stomach tightened. “Special assignment, sir?”

He finally met her gaze, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. The charity gala. It’s in two weeks, and we’re short- staffed. You’ll be assisting Madame Rosseau, the event planner.”

“But sir, I don’t have any experience with-”

“You’re organized, you’re quick on your feet, and you don’t complain. Much.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You’ll do fine. Rosseau’s waiting in the conference room. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Nia opened her mouth to protest further, but Mr. Hartley had already returned his attention to his screen. Sighing, she turned and headed for the conference room, her mind racing. She’d heard whispers about Madame Rosseau–none of them good,

As she approached the conference room, Nia smoothed her skirt and took another steadying breath. She pushed open the door, plastering on her most professional smile.

The woman who turned to face her was tall and imposing, with sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes, She looked Nia up and down, her lips curling into a sneer.

“You’re the help? Hmph.” Madame Rosseau’s French accent was thick, dripping with disdain.

Nia fought to keep her smile in place. “Nia Moreno, ma’am. I’m here to assist you with the charity gala,

Rosseau’s eyes narrowed. “Very well. Keep up, chérie. I won’t repeat myself.”

What followed was a whirlwind of demands and criticisms. Nia’s hand cramped as she furiously scribbled notes about centerpieces, lighting designs, and canape selections. When she dared to make a suggestion about using local, sustainable flowers, Rosseau cut–her off sharply.

“I don’t pay you to think, chérie. Your job is to listen and obey. Nothing more.”

By the end of the day, Nia’s spirit was nearly broken. Her feet ached, her head pounded, and her self- esteem had taken a serious beating. But as she looked at the chaos of papers strewn across Rosseau’s desk, an idea began to form.

Long after everyone else had gone home, Nia stayed. She organized, color–coded, and created spreadsheets. When she finally left at midnight, her eyes were burning, but a small smile played on her lips. She had a plan.

The next morning, Nia arrived early, armed with coffee and fresh croissants. She laid out her work from the night before, arranging everything neatly on Rosseau’s desk.

When the planner swept in, her eyes widened slightly at the sight. She picked up one of Nia’s meticulously crafted timelines, studying it closely.

“Hm,” was all she said, but Nia caught the hint of approval in her tone. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The following days were a blur of activity. Nia trailed behind Madame Rosseau as they visited vendors,

CHARTER FORTYONE NEW REALITIES:

tasted catering samples, and argued with florists. Through it all, Nie maintained her composure, quietly problem–solving and smoothing ruffled feathers in Rosseau’s wake.

On their third day together, they entered an upscale boutique, the kind where price tags were conspicuously absent. Rosseau’s heels clicked aggressively on the marble floor as she demanded to see the latest gowns.

A young shop assistant named Sarah nervously brought out a selection. Rosseau dismissed each one with increasing venom, her voice rising with each rejection.

“Incompetent! Do you know who I am?” she shrieked, throwing a delicate silk dress to the floor.

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, and Nia felt a surge of protectiveness. She stepped forward smoothly, inserting herself between the trembling girl and the irate planner.

“Madame Rosseau,” Nia said, keeping her voice calm and respectful, “perhaps the lighting in this area isn’t showcasing the dresses to their full potential. Why don’t we move to the VIP room? I’m sure your disceming eye will appreciate the finer details there.”

Rosseau paused, considering. After a moment, she gave a curt nod. As they moved to the other room, Nia hung back for a moment to whisper words of encouragement to Sarah.

In the end, they left with several stunning gowns. As they exited the boutique, Rosseau grudgingly muttered, “Not bad, your handling of that situation. Perhaps you’re not entirely useless.”

Nia felt a small thrill of victory. She was making progress, slowly but surely taming the Rosseau beast. As the days passed, Nia found herself juggling her regular duties with the increasing demands of gala preparation. She arrived early and stayed late, fueled by determination and copious amounts of coffee. One evening, as Nia was reviewing seating charts, she heard a familiar voice in the hallway. Her heart skipped a beat as Leon Allistair rounded the corner, deep in conversation with another executive.

Nia quickly ducked her head, pretending to be absorbed in her work. But Leon paused as he passed, his eyes landing on her.

“Nia, isn’t it?” he said, his voice warm. “Working late again?”

She looked up, forcing a smile. “Yes, Mr. Allistair. Just finalizing some details for the gala.”

He nodded approvingly. ‘Dedication like yours is what makes Colossius great. Keep up the good work.” As he walked away, Nia let out a shaky breath. These close encounters were becoming more frequent, and each one left her nerves frayed.

The next morning, Nia arrived at work to find Maria waiting for her in the lobby, looking worried.

“Nia, we need to talk,” Maria said, pulling her friend aside. “Your mom called me last night. She wants to

see you.”

Nia felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. “What? Why?”

Maria shrugged helplessly. “She didn’t say. But Nia, maybe it’s time to try and mend things with your family. It’s been three years…”

Nia shook her head, her jaw clenching. “They still think I’m guilty, Maria. They believe all those lies the media spread. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“I’m not saying forgive and forget,” Maria said gently. “But maybe just… listen? Your mom sounded different this time. Like she might be ready to hear your side.”

Nia sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll think about it, okay? But right now, I’ve got to focus on this

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gala. It’s all hands on deck, and Madame Rosseau will have my head if I’m late.”

Maria nodded, giving Nia’s arm a squeeze. “Okay. But promise me you’ll consider it?”

“I promise,” Nia said, though her stomach churned at the thought..