Page 4 of Ansel

“Absolutely,” she purred.

I licked my lips and then, when they started to talk about Vanessa’s planned promotion as she moved up with Ansel, I began to slowly walk.

A sharp, suffocating pressure filled my chest.

She’s just an assistant.

She’s entirely replaceable.

I managed to get to the bathroom before the first tear fell.

Locking myself in a stall, I pressed my palms against the cool metal door, my breath shaky as Ansel’s words echoed in my head.

He thought I wasn’t manager material, then why did he say he’d make me one? He found my devotion to him embarrassing on my behalf? I’d never been inappropriate with him,everand he had the gall to speak of me like I was some insecure slut.

I was a twenty-eight-year-old professional. I was notjust an assistant.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the memories flooded.

Every late night spent in his office, double-checking reports while he loosened his tie and thanked me for always staying.

Every early morning when I brought his coffee exactly the way he liked it.

Every time he said, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Neha.

Liar.

I had told myself—again and again—that he didn’t see me the way I saw him. That the soft glances I imagined, the rare smiles he saved just for me, meant nothing. But this? This wasn’t just a lack of feelings. It was outright disregard and disrespect.

Heat pricked my eyes again, but I swallowed it down. There was no point in breaking apart over this. I’d given everything to this job. To him. But he didn’t see my contributions.

I inhaled sharply and straightened.

Fine.

I squared my shoulders, turned on my heel, and went straight to my desk. Ansel Tyler thought I was disposable, but I wouldn’t wait for him to toss me aside.I’d leave before he got that pleasure.

Could I use the three-week severance check? Unquestionably, but my dignity was more important. I had savings, and I’d be fine until I found a new job.

When I returned to my desk, my decision was firmer than that of a blue-chip stock in a bull market.

I typed up a short resignation letter, planning to hand it to him after lunch at Delmonico’s. The least he could do was buy me an expensive meal before I walked away for good.

I printed out the letter, signed it with steady hands, ignoring the cracks in my heart.

3

LETTING GO

ANSEL

Ihad wanted to cancel the lunch after talking to HR about getting rid of Neha. I felt like an ass, trying to make small talk with her, pretending that she’d come upstairs with me when she wouldn’t.

Vanessa had been telling me for the past year that I needed a new assistant. I couldn’t understand why since Neha was excellent, and many of my colleagues envied me for having someone so capable.

But I started to see things that Vanessa pointed out. For example, Neha sometimes insisted on changes in a presentation, which I usually agreed with, but that wasn’t her job. She was just an assistant, and she was trying to play above her weight class when she gave me her opinion on strategic matters.

I mean who the hell was the Senior Director here?

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