Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce!-Chapter 97

Aria’s POV

I showered. Dressed. Changed outfits three times. Settled on a navy blazer and white blouse—professional but not trying too hard. Applied minimal makeup with shaking hands.

"Mommy?"

Lina appeared in my doorway. Rubbing her eyes. Unicorn pajamas rumpled from sleep.

"Hey, baby." I crouched down. Opened my arms. "What are you doing up so early?"

She shuffled over. Climbed into my lap.

"You look fancy," she mumbled against my shoulder.

"Mommy has her first day at work today. Remember?"

"Mmhmm." She yawned hugely. "Will you come back?"

My heart squeezed.

"Of course I’ll come back. I’ll always come back."

"Promise?"

"Promise." I kissed the top of her head. "Uncle Cassius is going to take you to school today. And I’ll pick you up this afternoon. Okay?"

"Okay." Another yawn. "Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"You’re gonna do great."

God. This kid.

"Thank you, sweetheart." I hugged her tighter. "Thank you."

---

The Blood Crown Industries building looked even more intimidating in the early morning light.

I stood on the sidewalk. Same spot as yesterday. Same view. Same terror clawing at my chest.

I squared my shoulders. Lifted my chin. Pushed through the glass doors.

The lobby was already buzzing with activity. People in suits rushing past. Coffee cups in hand. Important conversations happening in hushed tones. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

I found the elevator. Pressed the button for the thirty-second floor. Watched the numbers climb.

Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five.

My stomach dropped with each ding.

Thirty-two.

The doors slid open.

A woman stood waiting. Middle-aged. Warm smile. Clipboard pressed against her chest.

"You must be Aria!" She extended her hand. "I’m Patricia. I’ll be showing you around today."

"Nice to meet you." I shook her hand. Tried to match her energy.

"Follow me. We’ve got a lot to cover."

She led me through the maze of offices and cubicles. Pointing things out as we walked.

"That’s the break room—coffee’s free but the good creamer disappears fast, so get there early. Bathrooms are around that corner. Copy room is down the hall. And this—" She stopped in front of a desk near a wall of windows. "This is you."

It wasn’t huge. Just a standard workstation with a computer, phone, and small potted plant someone had left as a welcome gift.

But it was mine.

"Your supervisor is Director Black—she’s the one who interviewed you." Patricia lowered her voice. "Fair warning? She’s tough. But she’s fair. Do your job well and she’ll respect you. Screw up and she’ll let you know."

"Got it."

"You’ll be handling administrative support for the executive floor. Scheduling, correspondence, document management, that kind of thing." She handed me a thick folder. "This is everything you need to know. Policies. Procedures. Contact lists."

I took the folder. It weighed approximately a thousand pounds.

"Any questions?"

About a million.

"I think I’m good for now."

"Great!" She patted my shoulder. "I’ll check on you in a few hours. Just dive in. You’ll figure it out."

She left.

I sat down at my desk. Opened the folder. Stared at the wall of text.

Okay, Aria. You can do this.

I started reading.

---

By 10 AM, I was drowning.

The executive floor was chaos. Apparently, the previous assistant had quit without notice two weeks ago. In that time, emails had piled up. Schedules had conflicted. Documents had disappeared into the void of "someone was supposed to file that."

Director Black appeared at my desk at 10:15.

"Ms. Moon." Her voice was clipped. "I need the Henderson contract on my desk by noon. It should have been filed last week. No one can find it."

"I’ll locate it, ma’am."

"See that you do."

She walked away. I stared at the mountain of unfiled paperwork with something approaching despair.

Okay. Okay. Think, Aria.

I grabbed a notepad. Started listing priorities.

Henderson contract—URGENT.

Conflicting meeting schedules—fix by end of day.

Unanswered correspondence—categorize and respond.

Filing backlog—organize chronologically.

One thing at a time.

I attacked the filing cabinet first. Found the Henderson contract buried under three months of misfiled invoices. Had it on Director Black’s desk by 11:30.

She looked up when I placed it in front of her.

A pause. Then: "Good work, Ms. Moon."

Lunch was a granola bar eaten at my desk while I tackled the scheduling disasters.

Three executives had been double-booked for the same meeting tomorrow. Two conference rooms had been reserved for the same time by different departments. And someone—God only knew who—had scheduled a client presentation during the company’s mandatory fire drill.

I picked up the phone. Started making calls.

"Hi, this is Aria from the executive floor. I’m calling about the Resource meeting tomorrow—"

"Yes, I understand there’s a conflict. I’m working on resolving it—"

"Would 2 PM work instead? I can move the Peterson call to—"

"Perfect. Thank you so much."

One down. Twelve to go.

By 3 PM, I’d untangled the entire scheduling mess. Created a new system for booking conference rooms. Sent updated calendar invites to everyone affected.

My phone rang.

"Executive floor, Aria speaking."

"Ms. Moon." Director Black’s voice. "Come to my office."

My stomach dropped. "Right away, ma’am."

I walked to her office on legs that felt like jelly. Knocked on the door.

"Enter."

She was sitting behind her desk. That unreadable expression on her face.

I stood in front of her. Waiting.

"I’ve received several calls this afternoon," she said. "From executives. About you."

Oh no.

"They wanted to know where you came from." She paused. "And whether we could clone you."

I blinked.

"You’ve accomplished more in six hours than the last three assistants did in six weeks." She leaned back in her chair. "I’m impressed, Ms. Moon."

"Thank you?"

"That wasn’t a question." The corner of her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Keep up this level of work and you’ll go far here."

"I—yes, ma’am. Thank you."

"That’s all."

I floated back to my desk.

By 5 PM, most of the floor had started packing up. Shutting down computers. Grabbing coats and bags.

I was still at my desk. Still working. There was so much left to do.

"You’re still here?"

I looked up. Patricia stood by my desk, coat on, bag over her shoulder.

"Just finishing up a few things."

"Don’t work too late on your first day." She smiled. "You’ll burn out."

"I won’t be much longer."

"Okay." She waved. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you."

The floor emptied out. Voices faded. Footsteps disappeared.

By 6 PM, I was one of the only people left.

The quiet was nice, actually. No phones ringing. No conversations to overhear. Just me and my work.

I was deep in a spreadsheet when my desk phone rang.

The sound startled me so badly I nearly knocked over my coffee.

I grabbed the receiver. Wedged it between my ear and shoulder. Kept typing.

"Hello? Executive floor."

Silence.

Then a voice.

Low. Deep. Male.

"I will inspect the company tomorrow."

The words were clipped. Brief. Gone almost as soon as they started.

"Wait—I’m sorry, who is this?" I stopped typing. Sat up straighter. "Hello? Sir? Could you repeat that? I didn’t catch your—"

Click.

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone in my hand. Confused. Annoyed.

"What the hell?"