Early June, and the afternoon rain came down hard—wind howling, dark clouds looming overhead, and heavy drops slamming into the ground, churning up that damp, earthy smell.

Eleanor Scott stepped out of the elevator, a file tucked under her arm, and saw their front door wide open. She changed out of her shoes and glanced toward the living room. Maya Bennett was in the middle of bundling up a pile of old books. Hearing the door, she looked up. “Back already? Got your resumes printed?”

“There’s a print shop right by the gate.” Eleanor set the folder on the dining table and rolled up her shirt sleeves, about to help.

Maya stopped her. “Nah, I’ve got this. Aren’t you heading out for your interview soon? Shouldn’t you be doing your makeup or something?”

“I’ve got time.” Eleanor crouched down anyway to tighten the string with her. They quickly tied up two stacks before a thick textbook slipped out and hit the floor.

Eleanor picked it up, her eyes skimming across the cover before glancing at Maya. “You really getting rid of all these?”

Maya took the book with a sigh, sounding kind of defeated. “Yeah.”

Back in college, they were roommates in the journalism department. After graduation, Eleanor joined a beauty brand's marketing team. Maya took a different route—decided to switch fields and went to grad school for design. Only she found out in her first year she didn’t like it at all. Three years later, degree in hand and pressure from home building up, she went back to what she knew and took a job in digital media. The office happened to be close, so she moved in with Eleanor.

Over the past six months, she’d been regretting that decision nonstop—said if she’d just started working after undergrad like Eleanor, she wouldn’t be stuck competing with fresh-out-of-college interns now.

“Anyway, enough about me,” Maya said, eyeing Eleanor as she double-checked her resume. “What’s Rise offering that got you leaving a brand-side gig for an agency?”

Eleanor let out a soft laugh and headed toward her bedroom. “You make it sound like I got poached. Not even sure they’ll take me.”

“Didn’t someone from Rise recommend you?”

“Not exactly.” Eleanor grabbed her makeup bag from the vanity. “We met during a launch event a while back. She works in client services and saw my resignation post online the other day. Said they had openings and I should give it a shot.”

Maya nodded slowly. “Well, it’s worth a try. Rise is a big name. Sure, they’re agency-side, but the pay’s probably better than your last job. Bosses might even be more chill…”

She trailed off halfway through, suddenly realizing what she was about to say and swallowed the rest of it.

Eleanor, catching the pause from the other room, met her own gaze in the mirror. But she didn’t follow up either.

Twenty minutes later, her makeup was done: soft almond eyeshadow, muted reddish-brown lipstick, low ponytail. White blouse, knee-length black pencil skirt—simple, neat, nothing too flashy but still professional.

As she was about to leave, she reached for an extra set of keys for Maya, only to see her roommate picking up her own bag.

“Didn’t you say your first day’s tomorrow?”

Maya sighed. “Moving company lost a package—bed stuff, of course. I figured I’d hit the store today while I’ve got time.”

“Alright then.” Eleanor grabbed the car keys off the shoe rack. “I’ll drop you off.”Maya Bennett glanced over casually, caught the car key logo, and made a face. "Still driving that tiny beat-up thing?"

Eleanor Scott gave her a sidelong look, half amused. "Since when is a Benz considered a beat-up car?"

Maya slipped into her shoes and shut the door with a slightly mock-resentful tone. "You know that’s not what I meant."

Yeah, Eleanor got the subtext loud and clear. She walked over to the elevator, pressed the down button, then stood back and casually brushed at her lashes. "It’s not like I paid for it. It was a gift. As long as it runs, I’m good."

"Only your dad would give his adopted daughter a Cayenne and let his own biological kid drive a secondhand C-Class that even the fake daughter’s tired of..." Maya trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief. "Seriously, who would believe that if we said it out loud?"

Eleanor twirled the car key around her finger and opened her mouth to respond—then the elevator dinged and cut her off. They both stepped inside, dropping the conversation.

Binhcheng sat along the seaside, with a classic subtropical climate—early summer here brought heavy rainstorms that came and went quickly. By the time Eleanor was on the road, the rain had cleared. The sky had brightened, and the pomegranate trees lining the road looked even greener under the clean light.

Maya needed to be dropped off at a mall near the second ring road. As she got out, she paused by the passenger side window, grinning brightly. "Good luck at the interview!"

Eleanor curved her lips into a half-smile. "You sound like someone’s mom on exam day."

Maya ignored her jab and gave her the once-over. "You’re a bit too toned-down today, don’t you think?"

Eleanor instinctively adjusted the rearview mirror and took a quick look. Her eyelashes were long and defined as they fluttered. She tilted her head side to side, a little unsure. "Too plain?"

"You look good, just not boss-babe enough for the workplace," Maya said seriously, hesitating for a moment before removing the delicate pearl earrings from her own ears. "Here. Add a little sparkle."

Eleanor was hesitant. She remembered those earrings—Maya inherited them from her mom. And that time she lost one on campus, they had practically cried their way through hours of searching until they found it.

But Maya was genuinely insisting. "Just borrow them for the day. Land the job and take me out for a fancy dinner, deal?"

Unable to argue, Eleanor finally took them with a laugh. "Deal."

—

About ten minutes later, she pulled up near the RISE corporate building. Just as she planned to enter the parking garage, a security guard waved from a distance, signaling it was full. She sighed and made a U-turn.

After a few minutes of circling the nearby roads, she finally snagged an empty spot a couple hundred meters away. She turned off the car, grabbed her bag and the folder, and was just about to open the door when lightning streaked across the sky like it was being ripped apart. Fat raindrops started pelting down without warning.

Well, great.

Eleanor had no choice but to make a run for it toward the building.

She got through security on the first floor, the guard swiping her in. Inside the elevator, she used the mirrored doors to fix her slightly messy hair. Once everything looked right, she stepped out—and the receptionist guided her to the designated meeting room.

The first round was with HR. All the basic stuff—education, work history—was already on her résumé. Turns out, the HR lady, Clara Thompson, seemed quite satisfied with her. The interview only lasted a few minutes before Clara stood up to grab her a glass of water and smiled politely. "Miss Scott, please wait just a bit. The Director of Client Services is in a meeting—it should wrap up in about fifteen minutes."

Eleanor had applied for an SAE position, so that made sense. She nodded with a relaxed smile. "No problem at all, thank you."Waiting around for an interview wasn’t anything new, so Eleanor Scott wasn’t too bothered. She sat alone in the conference room, casually flipping through Rise’s company history on their website. Time slipped by faster than she realized—nearly an hour had passed before it hit her.

She stood up, stretching a bit, just as the door swung open.

A woman in a smokey-purple dress stood there, raising her eyebrows slightly. "Eleanor Scott?"

Eleanor straightened up immediately. "Hello."

The woman gave her a brief, unreadable once-over before speaking in an offhand tone. "Oh, the boss suddenly called a meeting today—everyone had to attend. Sorry to keep you waiting. You can sit down."

Eleanor nodded and took a seat again.

The director sat across from her and casually sifted through the résumé Eleanor had placed on the table. "Binda, School of Journalism… Hmm, guess that makes me your senior then..."

Before Eleanor could respond with something polite, the woman’s gaze froze for a beat, clearly catching something. Then her eyes lifted. "You worked in Xuanmei’s brand department?"

Not sure what to make of the question, Eleanor replied, "Yes, I got in through campus recruitment after graduation, stayed three years, worked on—"

She was about to elaborate when the other woman cut her off, clearly uninterested. "Jeff—Jeffrey Bridges, was he your manager?"

That caught Eleanor off guard. "Yes, he was."

The director stared at her for a few seconds, then let out a soft scoff, a smirk playing under her long lashes—definitely not a friendly one.

"So you’re that Eleanor Scott." She shut the résumé and tipped her chin up slightly. "Old Jeff and I went to college together. Your little drama with him’s been making the rounds lately. I've heard some things."

"Really? Small world."

"Yeah, small world." The woman smiled sharp, her expression almost amused. "I mean, I only got the rough outline. If you don't mind, why not fill in the juicy details?"

The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss.

Eleanor didn't need it spelled out. She slowly loosened her clenched hands and looked the woman straight in the face. "Pretty sure your interview invite didn’t list ‘spilling personal tea’ as a requirement."

"Eh—" the other woman dragged out the sound, tone snide. "Not exactly personal, is it? We’re talking about an SAE role that comes with plenty of business trips. I really don’t want to hire someone who’d freak out over a male colleague asking her to hand-deliver a file and then run off and file a sexual harassment complaint."

The moment the words left her mouth, Eleanor knew—there was no way she was getting the job.

She gathered herself, the earlier tension slipping away as she smiled lightly and said, calm as ever, "It’s understandable—being friends with Jeff, hearing only his side of things. But this is a professional setting, and you're the interviewer. Making assumptions and turning this personal? That says more about you than me. Honestly, there’s no need to keep this interview going."

Grabbing her résumé, she stood up. The woman clearly hadn’t expected Eleanor to keep her cool, let alone clap back like that—she was momentarily stunned.

Eleanor slung her bag over one shoulder and opened the door to leave—but paused, hand still on the handle. She turned with one last look.

"As a working woman yourself, you probably know how tough it is to prove workplace harassment. Internal reporting is fully within employees’ rights, protected by labor laws. If I dared to go public with it, I’m ready to face what comes. But the way you’re rushing to weaponize it against me? Says a lot about how limited your perspective really is."Eleanor Scott stood at five-foot-seven, slender and graceful, her features sharp and striking. There was a quiet arrogance in her stance, the kind that came naturally when she spoke firmly but without rush—every word landed right where it hurt.

The woman opposite her, who just moments ago wore the smug smile of someone convinced they'd won, suddenly stood up, rolling her eyes. "Oh please! Who do you think you are, talking to me about perspective? Women like you, using gender for leverage, are exactly why professional women have it so bad these days..."

Eleanor’s face didn’t twitch once. She stood tall by the doorframe, her eyes locked on the other woman’s face. Then, something shifted—the woman’s gaze froze on something behind Eleanor, her anger fading into confusion mid-sentence.

Eleanor turned slightly, and sure enough, the hallway behind her had gathered a small crowd. Seven or eight people, probably just passing by, had stopped dead in their tracks, caught off guard by the heated exchange. Now, their awkward faces bore the unmistakable mix of panic and curiosity.

Oddly, Eleanor felt calm. She had already been mentally preparing to submit new applications elsewhere. But then, her eyes fell on someone and hovered there for a split second longer than necessary.

A man in a deep-toned suit stood among the crowd. He leaned slightly forward, posture relaxed in an almost careless sort of way, exuding that effortless cool some people were just born with. Tall, clean-cut, ridiculously photogenic—he stood out as if he’d been Photoshopped into the scene.

She hadn’t been expecting to see Nathaniel Broomfield here—not like this, anyway.

Eleanor’s fingers trembled briefly before she pulled herself together and looked away.

"Miss Scott?" Clara Thompson’s surprised voice cut through the moment as she stepped from the crowd, eyes full of disbelief.

Eleanor hadn’t answered yet when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nathaniel casually pushing back the document someone had handed him. He paused, then directed his gaze—momentarily—at Eleanor before shifting it to the woman standing inside the meeting room. His tone was calm, clipped, but beneath the surface was a quiet authority and disdain.

"Would someone care to explain?"

—

By the time Eleanor left Rise, the rain had picked up again. The clouds pressed low and heavy over the city, casting the whole afternoon in an eerie night-like haze. The steady downpour blurred every edge, making the world look dreamlike and distant.

Sitting silently in the car, Eleanor stared blankly ahead until Maya Bennett’s message lit up her phone: “How'd the interview go? It’s still pouring like crazy. Careful driving. If it gets worse, just wait it out, okay?”

For a split second, it felt like a lifeline.

Eleanor perked up and typed back quickly, “You on your way home? Got a ride yet?”

But then came Maya’s reply: she was already back at the apartment. No luck there.

Eleanor sighed and let her phone fall into her lap.

In the earlier chaos, all she’d managed to catch was Clara saying, “She’s here for the interview,” before Eleanor had squeezed past the crowd and made a quick exit. She’d braved the rain to get to her car, only to discover—because of course—her car had broken down.

She’d been hoping Maya was in a cab and could swing by to get her. Obviously, no dice.

Rideshare queues were out of control. Triple digits, almost.

Outside, the sky had gotten even darker. Eleanor pushed her damp bangs back, sighed, and shoved open the car door.

The rain hit hard, each drop stinging skin like tiny rubber bullets. She ignored it, popped the hood, and took a look. If it was just a bit of carbon build-up, she had some cleaner in the trunk and could maybe get the car going again.

But visibility was crap in this downpour, and trying to handle it one-handed wasn’t cutting it. She gave up holding the hood with one hand and used both to remove the engine cover.

Just as she got it off, the hood prop snapped out of place, the latch popping free and smacking her right on the arm.At the very last moment, there wasn’t even time to dodge—Eleanor Scott instinctively hugged her head, trying to minimize the impact. But out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly saw a hand shoot out of nowhere and grab the support pole just in time.

She scrambled to look up—right into Nathaniel Broomfield’s face.

Holding a black umbrella in his left hand, pale wrist peeking from his sleeve, he had his other hand firmly on the pole. A faint frown tugged at his brows as he stood there in the downpour—broad shoulders, straight posture, calm and distant like a watercolor painting smudged by the rain.

"What are you doing?"

Eleanor blinked. “The car broke down. I was trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

Nathaniel looked at her for a few seconds, something briefly flashing under those long, dark lashes—maybe confusion.

“Here.” He shoved the umbrella into her hand, clasped her wrist, and pulled her back a step. Only then did he lift the hood slowly and say, “No way to fix it now. Wait till the rain stops.”

"...Thanks."

He glanced at her again, like he’d already noticed the mess she was in. “Take my car. Call the tow service tomorrow.”

Eleanor looked over her shoulder—just a few meters away, a tall SUV was idling with hazard lights blinking. Its sleek black exterior, combined with the amber flashes, made it look like some beast lying low under the rain.

After a brief pause, she nodded. “Alright, thanks.”

Nathaniel didn’t respond, not even trying to share the umbrella. He turned and walked to the SUV first. The rain was intense, with puddles everywhere. As he strode across the slick road, water splashed under every step.

Eleanor gripped the umbrella tighter and hurried after him.

Inside the car, the door thudded shut. The two of them settled into the back seat. Even though the rain noise was blocked out, the cabin still felt strangely stifling, like the storm's pressure lingered in the air.

Eleanor’s shoulders were soaked, her hair a tangled mess clinging to her neck. She wasn’t exactly looking her best, but she still smoothed down her hair, gave him a small nod, and said, “Long time no see.”

Nathaniel didn’t seem interested in catching up. Sitting back in the shadows of the car, he looked bored more than anything and only replied flatly, “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

Come to think of it, this was only the third time they’d ever met. Even if they were technically married, their relationship wasn’t what you’d call close. Had she known Reese was his company, Eleanor wouldn’t have bothered showing up for that interview.

So she didn’t keep the convo going. Instead, she turned to the driver politely: “Hi, could you take me to the north gate of Jinyuan neighborhood?”

The driver replied, “Sure.” Just as she was about to thank him, Nathaniel suddenly chimed in.

Sitting casually inside, he had already taken off his rain-slick coat. His white shirt was slightly unbuttoned, long legs stretched out, holding a tablet lazily in one hand. He spoke like it was nothing: “That guy’s been let go.”

Eleanor blinked, not quite catching on. “Huh?”

Nathaniel looked up at her. The dim lighting in the car cast shadows across his face, making his features seem even sharper and more distant.

“You’re my legal wife. Technically, that makes you the boss lady at Reese. If your plan was just to apply for a regular job, there was no need to go through all that trouble.”