He did not know the board had finalized my title as Chief Executive Officer.
Neither did his secretary.
I moved toward the elevator.
Jang blocked me again.
“This is for executives.”
“I heard you.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because I’m going upstairs.”
Her face tightened. “Don’t dirty the elevator.”
I pressed the button.
When the doors opened, I stepped inside.
Jang followed.
“You’re finished,” she said. “I’ll have your internship canceled before lunch.”
I watched her reflection in the mirrored wall.
“Since when does an intern’s future depend on whether she obeys the president’s secretary?”
“Everyone under President Shiao passes my inspection.”
That told me everything about the culture my husband had allowed to develop.
On the executive floor, Jang loudly repeated what had happened. Within minutes, strangers warned me that offending her was equivalent to offending President Shiao.
“He trusts her more than anyone.”
“He spoils her.”
“She’s his right hand.”
One woman whispered, “Apologize before he finishes his meeting. He can make sure you never work in this industry again.”
Then I noticed the watch.
White ceramic. Diamond markers. A tiny silver crescent above the six.
Only ten existed worldwide.
A month earlier, I had asked Shiaoza to buy that exact limited-edition watch for his mother’s birthday. I had been stuck in Boston closing a deal, and he promised to handle it.
Now it circled Jang Chin Tong’s wrist.
The elevator suddenly seemed irrelevant.
She caught me looking and raised her hand.
“You like it?”
“Where did you get it?”
Her smile softened almost affectionately.
“President Shiao gave it to me.”
Ten years of marriage shifted inside my head.
Late dinners. Weekend conferences. Urgent balcony calls. His phone always face down. His constant reassurance: “Don’t overthink it.”
Jang misunderstood my silence.
“Oh. I understand. You’re after him.”
I stared at her.
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