The double doors violently swung open.

Ace Suarez strode into the conference room, a pack of executives trailing behind him like terrified shadows.

Delinda stood in the corner of the room. Her eyes caught the sharp, unforgiving line of Ace's jaw.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She frowned, a sudden pressure building behind her eyes. The blurry clipping in her wallet flashed in her mind. The bone structure was identical.

Ace walked to the head of the table. He didn't sit. He slammed a thick financial report down on the wood.

The loud crack made the executives flinch. Delinda lowered her eyelashes, forcing the shock out of her expression.

Warren Petty stood up. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He pointed a trembling laser pointer at a heavily designed slide, trying to talk his way around the massive profit drop in the European division.

"Stop," Ace said.

His voice was a low, lethal blade. He rattled off three specific data discrepancies without looking at the paper.

Warren's face drained of color. He stuttered, his hands shaking as he tried to shift the blame to the data compilation department.

Ace slowly turned his head. His dark, predatory gaze swept toward the corner of the room. He stared directly at the new data assistant.

Delinda didn't look away. She met his aggressive stare head-on.

She took a step forward. Her voice was completely flat. "The data source was altered before the European division submitted it."

She tapped her tablet, not pulling up a hidden camera feed, but accessing the company's internal audit log interface. The main screen behind Warren switched from the presentation to a clean, system-generated timeline. Lines of red text highlighted the exact timestamps of the data upload, followed by a secondary, unauthorized edit timestamp-with the associated user ID clearly marked as belonging to Warren Petty's administrative credentials.

Someone in the room gasped. Warren looked like he was going to vomit.

Ace narrowed his eyes. He really looked at the woman in the beige trench coat for the first time.

"Why didn't you report this before the meeting?" Ace demanded, his tone dripping with danger.

"I was granted top-level access ten minutes ago," Delinda answered, her chin lifting a fraction of an inch. "This was the fastest way to stop the bleeding."

Ace's index finger tapped slowly against the mahogany table. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

Suddenly, Ace let out a short, cold laugh. "Fire the head of the European division. Put Warren on administrative leave pending an investigation."

The meeting was over. The executives scrambled out of the room like they were escaping a burning building.

Ace stood up. He walked toward the door, passing right by Delinda.

He stopped.

The scent of cedar and citrus hit his senses, clean and sharp.

Ace tilted his head slightly toward her. "Good job," he murmured, his voice a low rumble meant only for her.

Delinda's breath hitched. That deep, gravelly voice sent a violent shiver down her spine. The familiarity of it made her stomach twist into a knot.

Ace walked out, the frosted glass doors of his office closing behind him.

Delinda's hands were shaking. She gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

She walked back to her desk and pulled up the internal HR system. She typed in the CEO's name.

Ace Suarez. Unmarried. Long-term resident of Europe.

Delinda let out a harsh breath and shook her head. She was losing her mind. Her absentee husband couldn't be this Wall Street oligarch.

Inside the CEO's office, Ace loosened his silk tie. He stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows, listening to his chief of staff, Julian.

Julian handed him a file. "Sir, your grandmother called again. She wants to know when you are going to Brooklyn to pick up your wife, Mrs. Suarez."

At exactly seven in the morning, Delinda placed a cup of black coffee on Ace's desk. The temperature was precisely sixty-five degrees Celsius.

Ace didn't look up from his monitors. "I need a full M&A risk assessment on Soren Tech. You have two hours."

This was the final test. Whoever delivered it would officially take the Chief Assistant position.

Delinda walked out of the office. She sat at her desk and began pulling massive datasets from the server. Her eyes scanned the numbers, her brain categorizing the risks.

Warren Petty walked up to her desk. He leaned over, his cologne smelling sour mixed with his nervous sweat. He tried to look at her screen.

Delinda snapped her laptop shut. The loud click made him jump.

"Go back to your desk, Warren," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Warren's eyes flashed with pure venom. He turned and walked toward the breakroom.

With fifteen minutes left on the clock, Delinda stood up to grab the physical copies from the secure printer down the hall.

The machine beeped. Paper jam.

Delinda crouched down, pulling the tray open to clear the crumpled paper. Her eyes were off her desk for exactly forty seconds.

Warren walked past her cubicle. His fingers darted across her keyboard, hitting a few keys with practiced speed.

Delinda walked back to her desk with the printed report. She sat down to do a final check against her screen.

Her pupils dilated. Her stomach violently contracted.

The core valuation parameters in her model had been altered. The numbers were completely inverted.

If she handed this to Ace, the multi-billion dollar merger would fail, and she would be escorted out of the building by security.

She had three minutes before she had to walk into the CEO's office. There was no time to run the calculations again.

Delinda closed her eyes. She dug her nails into her palms. She forced her breathing to slow down, pulling the raw data from her photographic memory, rearranging the numbers in her head.

Her desk phone rang. Julian told her to come in.

Delinda grabbed the sabotaged report and pushed open the heavy oak doors.

Ace sat in his leather chair, watching them like a predator waiting for a mistake.

Warren spoke first. He threw out buzzwords, his voice overly loud to cover his lack of technical depth.

Ace's jaw ticked. He held up a hand, cutting Warren off instantly.

He looked at Delinda.

Delinda didn't open the folder in her hands. She looked straight into Ace's dark eyes.

She recited the complex financial ratios and risk hedging strategies entirely from memory. Her voice was steady, the numbers flawless.

Warren scoffed loudly. "She's not even reading from her own report. She's making it up."

Delinda turned to Warren. She threw her printed report onto the desk right in front of him.

"The parameters in that report were manipulated," she said coldly.

She pulled her tablet from her bag, syncing it to the office screen. But instead of a covert camera feed, she displayed the raw server access logs for her own workstation. The system-generated data showed her user ID logging out at the exact moment she went to the printer, followed immediately by a new login from a different terminal-Warren's assigned station-and a series of commands altering the core file. The timestamp glowed red on the screen. "The IT department confirmed the login credentials," she stated, her voice flat. "The physical terminal is logged to your desk, Warren.

Warren's knees buckled. He collapsed into the chair behind him, gasping for air.

Ace's eyes were dead as he looked at Warren. He pressed the security button under his desk.

Two guards dragged Warren out of the room by his armpits.

Ace leaned back in his chair. He looked at Delinda, the corner of his mouth lifting in a barely-there smirk. "Congratulations on the promotion, Chief Assistant."

By three in the afternoon, Delinda's feet were numb. She had stood beside Ace through a grueling four-hour global teleconference.

They moved in perfect sync. Every time Ace reached out his hand, Delinda placed the exact document he needed into his palm before he even asked.

They walked back into his private office. Ace pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders tight with exhaustion.

Delinda handed him a glass of room-temperature water.

Ace took it. He looked at her. "Thank you."

Delinda gave a small nod and turned to leave to type up the meeting minutes.

A harsh buzzing sound vibrated against the wood of the desk. Ace's private, encrypted phone was ringing. The caller ID flashed "Matilda."

Ace's face darkened instantly. The muscles in his jaw clenched tight. He picked up the phone.

"What?" he snapped, his voice rough.

Delinda froze by the door. She shouldn't be hearing this.

"I know," Ace growled into the phone, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll buy her a gift... No, I am not going to Brooklyn."

He threw the phone onto the desk. It skidded and hit a pen cup.

The air pressure in the room plummeted. Delinda couldn't breathe.

Ace looked up. His dark eyes locked onto Delinda standing by the door.

Delinda swallowed hard. "I'll leave you to your privacy, sir."

"Wait," Ace said. His voice was tight, almost strained. "Howell. If a woman... hasn't seen her husband in a year. What kind of compensation should he buy her?"

Delinda's brain misfired.

She stared at him. "Are you talking about... your partner, sir?"

Ace looked away, staring at the wall. "My wife."

A sharp, physical sting hit the center of Delinda's chest.

This ruthless, terrifying oligarch was married. And from the venom in his voice, he despised the woman he was tied to.

Delinda forced her facial muscles to remain completely still. She put on her professional mask.

"It depends on her tastes, sir," Delinda said smoothly. "If it is purely material compensation, high jewelry or limited-edition handbags are standard."

Ace let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Oh, she definitely needs the material things."

The absolute disgust in his voice made Delinda's stomach turn. She felt a sudden, bizarre wave of sympathy for the unknown woman sitting at home, waiting for a husband who spoke about her like she was a parasite.

"I can contact a personal shopper at 5th Avenue for you," Delinda offered, her tone dropping ten degrees.

Ace noticed the shift in her voice. His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "Do it."

Delinda walked out of the office and pulled the door shut. She leaned against the wall for a second, pressing a hand to her chest.

Julian walked by and whispered, "Why is he in a mood?"

Delinda shook her head. She walked to her desk and opened a browser, searching for high-end diamonds.

She had no idea she was curating a list of apologies meant for herself.