---- Chapter 9 Harper Griffin POV: "My job title is 'Design Intern, not 'Janitor;" | stated, my voice level. | held Juliana' s gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. A male employee, whose sycophantic laughter had been the loudest, stepped forward. "She's not just your supervisor, newbie," he sneered. "She's practically the General Manager's wife. If Mrs. Irwin wants you to scrub toilets, you scrub toilets." Mrs. Irwin. The name hit me like a physical blow. They were already calling her that. As if | had never existed. The confirmation that Adler was indeed the new GM settled in my stomach like a block of ice. He had orchestrated this entire takeover, a silent coup while | was grieving and broken. My fists clenched under the desk. He would pay. For every humiliation, for every tear, for every piece of my life he had stolen and twisted. "Go on," Juliana prompted, a smug smile playing on her lips. "The toilets on the 30th floor are particularly disgusting. | expect them to sparkle." My jaw tightened. | was about to refuse, to tell her exactly where she could put her toilet brush, but then my mother's ---- voice echoed in my mind. "Don't show them your cards until you're ready to win the whole game." She was right. Exploding now would get me fired and thrown out, ending my investigation before it had even begun. | needed to stay, to be the ghost in the machine, to gather the evidence that would bring them all down. So | swallowed my pride, the taste of it bitter as bile. "Fine," | said through gritted teeth. | stood up and walked toward the janitor's closet. As | reached for the door, a presence behind me made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A familiar, suffocating aura of cold control. Adler. He was standing not ten feet away, his face a thundercloud. | had prepared myself for this moment, rehearsed it a hundred times in my head, but the sight of him still sent a jolt through my system. He was thinner, his cheekbones sharper, dark circles under his eyes. But the arrogance, the icy authority, was still there, radiating from him like a palpable force. Keeping my eyes fixed on the closet door, | gave a slight, formal nod. "Mr. Irwin," | said, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me. His eyes raked over my outfit, the simple skirt and blouse, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. "What are ---- you wearing?" he demanded, his voice rough. | froze. Of all the things he could have said, this was the last | expected. Could he possibly remember? The day we met, five years ago, when | was an intern at a different firm and he was the powerful client. He had spilled coffee on me, and | had been wearing this exact outfit. "It's just... clothes for work," | stammered, caught off guard. The idea that he held that memory, that tiny, insignificant detail, was deeply unsettling. His eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. For a moment, he looked like he might stride over and shake me. But then Juliana was at his side, her hand possessively on his arm, breaking the spell. "Adler, darling, you're here!" she cooed, straightening his tie. It was a blatant act of ownership, a pantomime of wifely duty that made my stomach turn. Adler allowed the gesture, but his eyes never left me. He brushed her hand away. "What is she doing here?" he asked, his voice sharp. "And why is she holding a mop bucket?" | answered before Juliana could spin her own version of the truth. "Ms. Pitts instructed me to clean the bathrooms," | said, my tone flat and factual. Juliana' s face paled. "She was insubordinate!" she spluttered. "She was rude and disrespectful, Adler! | was just teaching her a lesson about her place in this company. You should fire her!" ---- Adler didn't even look at her. His gaze was fixed on my gloved hands. For the first time, | saw a flicker of something in his eyes. A ghost of the man | thought | knew. It looked like... pain. Like regret. The thought was so absurd | almost laughed out loud. Late- term remorse from a man like Adler Irwin was cheaper than dirt. "Were you using your position to settle a personal score, Juliana?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. Juliana' s eyes filled with tears of indignant rage. "Personal score? Adler, how can you take her side? I'm your fiancée! She's nothing!" With a swift, shocking movement, Adler reached out and pulled the massive diamond ring from Juliana's finger. The motion was so forceful it must have hurt, and she let out a small cry of pain. He held the ring up between his thumb and forefinger, the diamond catching the light. "Not anymore," he said, his voice as cold and hard as the stone he was holding. "The engagement is off."