"Did you hear? Assistant Evans has been crying again. Apparently, that new so-called Talent Director is actually Mr. Harrington's wife." The gossip in the office was in full swing.

"Word is, his wife is just a clueless housewife who came to the company to keep an eye on Clive and stop him from cheating," another one chimed in.

"Tiffany has been with Mr. Harrington for years. They look so good together too - such a shame. I heard his wife's been causing all kinds of trouble and even made Tiffany cry more than once."

*****

No one knew where those rumors started, but Paisley walked out of the restroom just in time to catch the tail end of it. Those people didn't recognize her. Not surprising, considering she hadn't really looked at anyone when she came in and had gone straight into Clive's office.

So yeah, her identity was still under wraps.

"Sorry to interrupt, but is it true? That Assistant Evans and Mr. Harrington are a thing?" Paisley jumped in, but the timing wasn't in her favor.

Maybe her question came out sounding too blunt, because the others seemed to immediately side with Tiffany.

"Who are you? Why are you talking like that? Assistant Evans and Mr. Harrington are practically a perfect match! His so-called wife? Just a clueless newbie. Bet they'll get divorced sooner or later."

Yikes. Hardcore Evans fan alert. Clearly, Tiffany had put in the work making friends around here.

"Clive's married, and you're still calling them a perfect match? Ever heard of the word mistress?" Paisley wasn't here to play nice. If she had to deal with this mess, Clive wasn't getting off easy either.

Of course, the group didn't take that lightly. One of them, clearly trying to score points with Tiffany, snapped.

"How dare you talk about her like that? I'm gonna beat the crap out of you!" She went for a slap, but Paisley was faster and sent one right back.

It was chaos. People started recording, some were just watching the show, and the funny part? None of them actually knew who Paisley was.

"You hit me? Do you even know who I am?" the woman yelled, shocked. "I'm part of the assistant team! You're new, right? I'll make sure you get fired!"

Wow, she really thought she ran the place.

"I hit you, end of story. No need to schedule it. And fire me? You wish," Paisley shot back. She wasn't the type to back down - especially not to someone who gossiped for sport. With folks like this under Tiffany, no wonder she ruled the internal PR game.

Clive must really have a blind spot to think Tiffany was some fairy-tale ideal. Paisley honestly felt like she had to worry for his future if this was the kind of woman he treasured so much.

Word about the fight obviously spread fast.

"Clive and Assistant Evans are coming! Move out of the way!" someone shouted.

As for why Clive showed up himself?

He knew his wife too well.

If she ever stayed put in his office behaving herself, it'd be a miracle. So the moment he caught wind of drama, he came straight over.

Talk about bad timing - Paisley had been putting up a strong front until her foot slipped, and the woman shoved her down. Clive walked in just in time to see her fall, a complete mess.

Clive strode over, blowing past everyone without a glance, and bent down to help Paisley off the ground.

Tiffany stood nearby, watching everything unfold. The crowd instantly jumped in, trying to spin the story in their favor.

"Tiffany, Mr. Harrington, she hit us first," one of them quickly blurted. The rest eagerly chimed in to back him up.

"Yeah, seriously! It wasn't that deep, just a disagreement - and she straight-up slapped us."

They still had no clue what kind of trouble they were in, grinning like they'd just won something.

Paisley felt a tinge of guilt as Clive helped her up, his reaction way faster than she expected. She actually had thrown the first punch, and now her eyes darted nervously to him, not knowing what to say.

"Did you get hurt anywhere?" Clive sounded genuinely worried, scanning her up and down in a panic as if she'd just taken a bullet.

But the truth? All she did was trip and fall at the end. Meanwhile, the ones she went after looked like they just got out of a bar brawl.

Paisley had handed out a few slaps herself, so her fall wasn't even that serious by comparison.

"My butt hurts," Paisley admitted honestly. She'd landed pretty hard, and yeah, that hurt - but not enough to need to be carried around.

But guess what?

Clive scooped her up without a second thought and headed for the door. Right before stepping out, he said, "The rest of you - go to HR and hand in your resignations."

One of them, clearly not afraid to die, called out, "Mr. Harrington, why should we? She started it. We were just defending ourselves."

Clive stopped, turned back with a glare, and said, "Defending? That's where you went wrong."

When the group looked like they wanted to argue more, someone whispered urgently, "Seriously, shut up and do it - that's Mrs. Harrington."

Mrs. Harrington?

Now they got it. They'd talked trash about her, even said Clive and Tiffany were a perfect match - right in front of his wife. That was like stepping on a landmine in steel boots.

Paisley didn't say a word the entire way; Clive carried her all the way back to his office, then gently set her down on the couch. He left the room briefly and came back moments later.

Paisley, trying to get ahead of whatever lecture was coming, blurted, "Don't you look at me like that. If you dare scold me, I swear I'll tell Grandpa you're keeping a mistress at work."

She needed leverage - no way was she letting him get away with snapping at her.

But as she glared at him, Clive suddenly knelt down, slipped off her shoes and socks, then carefully placed her feet on his lap.

Arnica gel was already beside him - he'd noticed the slight redness around her knees from the fall.

"Hold still. I'm putting this on, or it's gonna get worse tomorrow," he said softly, dabbing the ointment on her skin with such care it almost didn't feel real.

Paisley sat there a little dazed. Her mind tugged back to a hazy memory - had he done something like this before, in that other life? She couldn't be sure, but something about it felt familiar.

No one had ever treated her like this - not her cold, distant dad, not the mom who only saw her as some kind of ATM. Only her grandpa ever truly loved her. He even gave up part of his shares in the family business just so she could have a spot in the Hughes household.

Her nose tingled, chest tightening. And just like that, the tears started falling, one after another.