Nichole,who was done dipping her face with a handkerchief,had looked back into the mirror;the reflection staring back at her was pale;her eyes slightly red from the tears she had fought so hard not to shed in front of everyone.She had moved quietly to the stairs leading to her office.Just then, Clifford,who also witnessed what happened in the boardroom,had stood right in front of her.It was obstruction.
"You're just a nobody trying to act important."
He had whispered into her eyes.He had moved back 2inches after that while laughing sarcastically at her.
"You see that which just happened a the boardroom?" That is just a small piece to what you are yet to see,dude." Nichole wasn't just in the mood to mess him up with her own words.His words though,had cut deeper than she wanted to admit.She had tried to ignore him.She was fighting it.Truly,she had.But today had pushed her past her limit. It wasn't enough that he dumped his unfinished work on her desk every other hour, or that he whispered cruel jokes about her when he thought she wasn't listening. Today, he had publicly accused her of trying to impress the CEO by working late—insinuating things Nichole could hardly bear to think about.
All because she refused his advances.
Just then,Nichole had held back.She had walked past him without a single word for him.
The corridor was quieter now. Most employees had left for lunch, the echoes of footsteps distant. Nichole walked quickly toward the files room, hoping to collect the documents she needed before anyone else crossed her path.
But fate had other plans.
As she turned the corner, she saw him.
"MARTINO BROWN."
The CEO stood near the glass wall of his office, posture straight and commanding as always, his suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders. He was speaking to one of the senior managers in a low voice. Nichole's heart jerked violently in her chest.
Not him. Anyone but him.
She lowered her head, trying to slip past unnoticed. But her hurried movement caught his attention.
"Miss Lockwood?"
Her breath hitched.
Nichole stopped slowly and turned, her eyes dropping immediately to the floor in a show of respect.
"Yes, sir?"
The senior manager excused himself and walked away, leaving the two of them standing alone in the quiet hallway. The air felt heavier than usual.
Martino studied her for a moment. His sharp eyes, which normally searched for mistakes and weakness, lingered on her face a little too long. He noticed the faint redness around her eyes. The tight way she held her hands together.
"You look unwell," he said flatly.
Nichole swallowed though surprised.
"I'm fine, sir."
A lie. And he knew it.
Before he could press further, Clifford's voice suddenly echoed from the other end of the hallway.
"Funny how some people like pretending to be innocent, isn't it?"
Nichole stiffened.
Clifford walked closer, his lips curled into a lazy grin.
"Working late again, Miss Secretary? Or should I say… trying to win favors?"
Nichole's face burned with shame.
Before she could speak, Clifford added with a mocking bow,
"Good afternoon, sir."
Martino's gaze shifted slowly to Clifford.
The temperature of the hallway seemed to drop instantly.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
Then Martino said calmly, dangerously calm, "What exactly are you implying, Mr. Clifford?"
Clifford chuckled.
"Nothing serious, sir. Just harmless jokes."
Nichole felt her stomach twist. "Harmless to you," she thought bitterly.
Martino took one slow step forward.
"Jokes that tarnish an employee's character are not harmless. They are misconduct."
Clifford's smile faltered. "I was only—"
"You were only being unprofessional," Martino cut in sharply. "And if I ever hear you speak to my staff that way again, you will be answering directly to the disciplinary committee."
Clifford's face fell instantly. He glanced at Nichole with poorly hidden disbelief, then back at Martino.
"Yes, sir," he muttered and walked away stiffly.
The hallway fell silent again.
Nichole stood frozen, her heart pounding wildly. "Did the CEO—her CEO—just defend her?"
Martino finally turned his attention back to her. For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered in his dark eyes.
"You may go," he said coldly.
Nichole hurried past him without another word, afraid her knees would give out if she stayed one second longer.
******
All through the afternoon, her mind refused to settle.
"Why would he do that?" she wondered.
This was the same man who scolded her relentlessly. The same man who made her feel small almost every day. Yet today, he had defended her. Publicly.
The thought haunted her.
Later that evening, the office gradually emptied. One by one, the lights dimmed as workers signed out for the day. Nichole remained at her desk, typing furiously on her laptop as she worked on the remaining reports Clifford had dumped on her earlier.
She glanced at the clock.
8:47 p.m.
Her shoulders ached. Her eyes burned. But she pushed on.
The soft click of polished shoes echoed behind her.
"Nichole."
Her fingers froze on the keyboard.
Slowly, she turned in her chair.
Martino stood a few steps away, his jacket now draped over his arm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled back slightly. He looked different like this—less terrifying, somehow more human.
"Yes, sir?" she asked quietly.
"Why are you still working?" he asked.
"These reports need to be ready for tomorrow's briefing."
He glanced at the stack of files on her desk. "You weren't assigned all of this."
She hesitated.
Then softly, "Mr. Clifford added the rest."
Martino's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"You should have reported it."
Nichole gave a faint, tired smile. "I didn't want to cause trouble."
He stared at her for a moment longer than necessary.
"You'll collapse if you keep carrying everyone's burdens," he said.
The words were unexpected.
So was his tone.
Nichole blinked, unsure if she heard correctly. "Sir?"
He looked away. "Leave the remaining files. I'll handle them."
Her eyes widened. "You don't have to—"
"That wasn't a request."
She hesitated once more before slowly standing up. Her body protested with a dull ache in every muscle.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
She gathered her bag and moved toward the exit. Just as she reached the doorway, she paused.
"Sir?"
He looked up.
"Thank you… for earlier."
For a second, his expression hardened again.
Then, unexpectedly, he nodded.
******
That night, Nichole replayed everything in her mind as she lay in bed. Clifford's humiliation. The sharp command in Martino's voice. The way he had told her to stop carrying everyone's burdens.
Her heart felt strangely restless.
"He's still my enemy, she reminded herself firmly. One kind act doesn't change anything."
Yet sleep came slowly.
*****
The next morning, the office buzzed with whispers the moment Nichole stepped in.
"Did you hear the CEO warned Clifford for harassing her?"
"They say he defended her directly."
"Is she special or what?"
Nichole felt all eyes turn toward her as she walked to her desk. Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment.
Clifford passed by her without a word.
Not even a look.
And for the first time since she joined the company… he didn't dump any extra work on her table.
Later that day, Martino sat alone in his office, staring absently through his glass wall. His mind was not on board meetings or contracts.
It was on a trembling young woman standing in the hallway with tears lodged in her eyes… yet refusing to cry.
"Why did that bother me so much?" he wondered.
He had always believed weakness deserved no protection. Yet today, he had shielded her without thinking.
And for the first time in years, Martino Brown found himself unsettled—not by business risks…
But by the quiet strength of his secretary.