Chapter 1 – Celine Dawson
Chapter 1 – Celine Dawson
Tyson
“Get out! You’re fired!” I shouted in Carol’s face.
She cries and begs, but like the many before her, it changes nothing. Carol is a married woman—yet for a couple of extra dollars, she chose betrayal.
And she chose it with me—the one man in the world who has zero tolerance for infidelity.
“Get the fuck out! And don’t you ever show your face in front of me again!”
“Please, Mr. Anderson, where would I go?” she sobbed. “I have a disabled husband… and three children to take care of.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to go against me,” I snapped.
“Now get your miserable self out of here—or else.”
“Mr. Anderson, sir, please,” she grabbed hold of my leg and begged, tears streaming down her face.
In her pathetic attempt to look pitiful, she smeared makeup all over my pants, only worsening my irritation. She gave me no choice—I had to throw her out.
“Security, I need the trash taken out,” I neither had the time nor the patience to deal with nuisances.
Bob showed up seconds later and threw Carol over his shoulder without a single question. After twenty-two such calls, the burly man knew exactly what to do.
“Andrew.” I placed another call to my secretary without missing a beat.
Seconds later, the man himself burst into my office, his expression mirroring mine—pure frustration.
“Boss, what’d she do this time?” he asked, already knowing it didn’t really matter.
“Do you really have to ask?”
Andrew sighed sharply as he dropped into the chair across from me.
“Did you even bother reviewing the job description with her before hiring? Why does this keep happening?”
At this point, I seriously questioned Andrew’s competency.
“There’s an addendum in her file to back it up,” Andrew said. “Honestly, maybe it’s you. Too good-looking. Too polite. Gives them the wrong impression.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault,” I said flatly, raising a single eyebrow.
Bullshit. The word echoed in my mind, but I didn’t bother saying it.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Andrew shrugged, completely unfazed.
“That’s your justification?” I clicked my tongue, unimpressed by his logic.
“No, but Boss, this isn’t sustainable. Twenty-two personal assistants in less than six months—you’re the common denominator.” Andrew whined, as if I were to blame.
“So I’m to blame,” I said, my glare unwavering. “Should I start offering my body as part of the benefits package now, since they can’t seem to follow the terms they agreed to?”
“Well… no,” Andrew replied, his tone laced with quiet defeat.
“Then find me another personal assistant. Someone who actually wants to work—not some opportunist who thinks she can earn a few extra bucks by crawling into my pants.”
Andrew sighed and said nothing—he knew arguing with me was a waste of time.
“Fine,” Andrew groaned, dragging out the word. “I’ll just go through the thousands of applications all over again.”
A single glare, and he was gone—back to his office, muttering to himself. The moment I was alone, the past caught up with me. This was all her fault.
Time slipped by, and before I knew it, night had fallen. Downtown pulsed with life—Friday night had drawn the masses out to play. Laughter echoed, people danced on corners, wrapped in their own carefree joy.
That kind of freedom... I envied it. At the root of it all—my envy, my downfall—was one woman.
Sheila Brown.
The devil herself.
She was my soulmate, the love of my life. And she betrayed me in the worst way imaginable.
Since then, life has lost its color. Love, intimacy, passion… none of it means anything anymore. I’ve shut myself off completely—determined never to be vulnerable again.
I got home in a bit of a daze, running on autopilot as I made my way into the bathroom for some much-needed rest and recovery. It wasn’t just wanted—it was necessary.
Ding!
The dreadful chime made me groan in irritation. Who in their right mind would bother me—I froze. The name on the screen seemed to stop time itself: Sheila Brown.
Whatever she had to say no longer mattered. I tossed the phone into the sink and turned on the faucet, letting the water drown it without remorse.
Then, without a second thought, I stepped into the shower—ready to wash away the day... and her memory with it.
One week later
“Here’s your new phone, boss. Also… what happened to the old one?” Andrew chimed, a bit too theatrically.
“It was useless. I got rid of it. That’s all the explanation you’re getting,” I said, doing my best to ignore the garbage swirling in my head.
“What’s your problem today?”
“I’ve got good news—your new personal assistant starts today,” Andrew chimed, sounding like a five-year-old on a sugar high.
His relentless optimism was beginning to wear thin, making it increasingly difficult to focus.
We were in the middle of expanding our market overseas. The goal: to broaden our reach and foster appreciation for diverse cultures, lifestyles, and backgrounds through jewelry and accessories. A noble pursuit—on paper.
In practice, it was a tightrope walk of diplomacy and patience. To make matters worse, everyone around me seemed hell-bent on being a nuisance.
“What’s he like?” I asked, assuming—perhaps foolishly—that they’d finally hired a man.
“Actually… it’s a she,” Andrew said, wincing slightly, as if preparing for a storm.
I drew in a sharp, frustrated breath.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Get a male.”
“Boss, before you bite my head off—I’ve gone through all the applications. Ten times,” Andrew said quickly. “And just to remind you—ten times. About five of them were male applicants who identify as she/her. The rest? All females.”
My expression darkened.
“Don’t give me that look. You’re going to like this one—she’s a classic,” Andrew said, practically beaming.
“Right. A classic bitch—she’ll be gone in two months, tops…” I muttered, only to be cut off by a knock at the door.
“Shush—she’s here,” Andrew whispered before springing to his feet and practically galloping away.
Moments later, he returned, beaming.
“Boss, your new personal assistant: Celine Dawson,” he announced with far too much enthusiasm.
I looked up—and had to do a double take. She’s classic all right. Every single button fastened to the collar, sensible flats, thick-rimmed glasses. Her hair was neatly pulled back, with a fringe bang that screamed respectable librarian or strict Sunday school teacher.
Nice. Classic grandma style. Maybe she’s not so bad after all.
“Ms. Dawson, please introduce yourself,” Andrew urged, handing her the spotlight—one that outshined her completely.
“H-h-hello, M-m-mr. A-an-Anderson…” she said, voice trembling, each syllable a struggle.
She stuttered.
I shot Andrew a glare that practically screamed are you kidding me? He responded with a sheepish grin and an unhelpful shrug.
“Is there a speech issue I should know about?” I asked, clearly annoyed.
“N-n-n-n-n—”
She struggled, the word dying on her tongue.
I sighed. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
“Write it down.”
I didn’t have the patience to wait her out.
Dawson scrambled for a pen and paper, but she wasn’t fast enough.
The door flew open, and another woman strode in—this one dressed to impress. Her heels thundered with pride as she made her way across the room, each step deliberate, confident.
“I heard you need a new personal assistant. Here I am—free of charge.”
She walked right up and stood beside Grandma Dawson, clearly inviting the comparison.
The difference between them was night and day—pride, poise, confidence. She was superior in every way, and she knew it. That was her point, and she wasn’t wrong.
I offered a thin smile.
“Ms. Dawson, welcome aboard. Andrew, escort Ms. Brown out. And make sure she doesn’t come near my office again. Understood?”
“Yes, boss,” Andrew replied, already moving.
“But Ty—”
“Out. Now.” I cut Sheila off sharply.
My new assistant flinched, looking like she was about to lose control of her entire nervous system.
“Andrew!” I barked.
He scrambled to handle my demands, while the poor woman dropped everything she was holding on the spot.
“Yes, sir,” Andrew replied quickly, then physically removed Sheila from my office.
“And you—Andrew will handle your registration. Now, leave,” I snapped, unintentionally barking at her.
She hastily gathered her things and rushed out behind him.
Finally—some peace and quiet.
