Chapter 4 - The ConditionMara froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. Nothing in the corporate world came free, least of all a billionaire’s sudden intervention and a doubled salary.
"What condition?" she asked cautiously.
Edward walked back to his desk, picked up her portfolio containing the 'America at the Turn of the Century' proposal, and tapped it against his palm.
"I don't just want you to run the exhibit, Miss Ellis. I want you to launch it at the annual Centennial Gala in three months," Edward said, his gaze turning razor-sharp. "And I want you to do it while exposing every single financial discrepancy and administrative bottleneck that Maddox has hidden in the department over the last three years. I want a complete structural audit, led by you, presented live to the board."
Mara’s breath caught. "You want me to audit my own department? In front of the entire board of directors? That’s political suicide. Half the board protects Peter because of his family connections."
"Which is precisely why a mid-level coordinator who 'doesn't exist' is the only person who can pull it off," Edward replied smoothly. "They won't see you coming until it's too late. And I will provide absolute protection from the top down. No one—not the board, not HR, not Maddox—can touch you while you report directly to me."
He tossed the portfolio back onto the desk in front of her.
"You wanted to quit because your work was being buried," Edward said, his voice dropping into a low, persuasive register. "I am offering you a shovel to dig up the entire corrupt foundation. Are you a curator, Mara, or are you just someone who fills frames?"
The use of her first name hit her like a physical jolt. It was the first time he hadn't called her 'Miss Ellis,' and the intimacy of it sent a strange, electric shiver down her spine.
She looked down at the proposal. This exhibit was her life's work—months of historical research, artifact sourcing, and narrative mapping that Peter had tried to bury in a drawer. Now, she had the keys to the kingdom.
"If I do this," Mara said slowly, looking back up at him, "I do it my way. No interference from your office, no corporate spin, and no political filtering of the historical narrative."
A slow, approving smile spread across Edward’s face. It completely transformed his stern features, making him look dangerously handsome.
"Deal," Edward said, extending a hand across the desk.
May you like
Mara looked at his hand—large, warm, and steady—and placed hers into it. His grip was firm, electric, and lingered just a fraction longer than professional courtesy required.
Little did she know, the war for the Centennial Museum had just begun—and Peter Maddox was not going down without a vicious fight.
