Three Months Earlier, Stella's POV

The sound of my heels echoed through the HR hallway at Winter Enterprises, a constant reminder that I did not belong there. Everything was too clean, too organized, too expensive, and I was nothing more than a fraud dressed in thrift-store clothes.

I clutched the folder to my chest as if it could shield my heart from the truth printed inside it—a résumé that was basically a work of fiction.

The sunlight streaming through the building's massive windows couldn't warm the cold that lived inside me. Maybe it was the freezing air-conditioning. Or maybe it was the name "Winter," engraved in metallic letters in the lobby, that sent chills down my spine.

I was about to be interviewed for the position of personal secretary to the CEO, Damian Winter.

And all I had was a forged college degree, a fabricated work history, and an impossible debt left behind by my late father who was a bankrupt gambling addict.

I walked into the room and found the interviewer.

"Miss Harper? Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," I replied with a practiced smile, the same one I had rehearsed for hours in front of the mirror.

I settled into the chair, trying to keep my back straight and my hands steady in my lap. He began flipping through my folder.

"NYU graduate, business administration with a focus on logistics," he murmured, his eyes scanning the page. "You worked at Elridge Group?"

"Yes, sir. Two years as an executive assistant."

"You reported directly to the vice president?"

"Exactly. I handled financial reports, contracts, and an international schedule. It was a challenging experience, but very rewarding."

"Interesting. And please, Miss Harper," he leaned back in his chair, "look directly at the camera behind me."

I blinked.

"The camera?"

"Yes," he said, nodding toward a small lens, almost invisible, above the bookshelf. "We're testing a new behavioral analysis protocol for high-level interviews. You may keep looking at it while you answer."

My body froze. My heart started racing.

There was something about that dark lens that gave me the strange feeling of being… judged. Not by the interviewer, but by someone else.

I took a deep breath, fixing my eyes on the camera.

"The methodology I used was…" I began, but the words stumbled. "It was… a comparative analysis between…" Damn it. My mouth went dry. I didn't know what to say. I tried to push through. "Between… large corporations and… and their logistics methods."

The interviewer's silence was deafening. He watched me closely. Not with disapproval, but with an analytical expression.

I felt naked.

'Damn it, Stella. You practiced this.'

"Sir…" I swallowed hard. "I… I lied. I didn't finish college. I dropped out in my third semester. I needed a job. One that paid well. I did what I could. I know this probably costs me the position, but… I couldn't keep lying."

There was a long pause.

He simply observed me. Then, discreetly, he lifted a hand to his ear, adjusting the small earpiece tucked there. Who was on the other end?

"Yes, but… yes, Mr. Winter," he said, turning his attention back to me. "Miss Harper. Thank you for your honesty."

I closed my eyes, feeling defeat wrap around me.

That was it. It was the end of the line.

I prepared myself to leave.

"The position is yours."

My jaw dropped.

"What?"

"Start next Monday. You'll be introduced directly to Mr. Winter."

I couldn't respond. I just nodded.

I walked out of that room in a daze. Something was wrong. The lie had been exposed. And yet… he hired me anyway?

Why?

-

It seems only Mr. Winter himself could answer that question.

On the morning of my first day at work, I stood planted in the hallway for a long time, waiting for the former secretary to come brief me on my duties.

I waited and waited… but no one showed up.

I decided to ask a few employees, now technically my coworkers, who looked friendlier. But they only exchanged amused glances, like they were watching a disaster unfold in real time. Then they told me, almost laughing, that the former secretary had run out crying.

I guess she didn't have debts like mine. That must be the only way someone could afford the luxury of having an emotional meltdown.

It took so much for me to get into this company. 'No matter how difficult this CEO is to deal with, I'll endure it. Right, Miss Harper?'

I took a deep breath and knocked three times on the CEO's office door, my rhythm carefully measured.

"Mr. Winter?"

"Come in." His deep voice cut through the wood and sent a slight tremor through my fingers and my heart.

I opened the door and lifted my eyes.

A tall man stood by the panoramic window, turning his head slightly to look at me.

I felt trapped by those deep brown eyes, which caught a golden glow when the sunlight hit them at just the right angle. He had light brown hair with highlights that looked like honey under the office lighting. He was tall with broad shoulders. His muscles were visible even beneath his immaculate suit. He was really handsome in an unfair way. And that serious, almost cold expression… made him look like a sculpture designed to intimidate, not to admire.

A CEO that gorgeous… just how unbearable could he be?

I was sure I could handle it.

-

That same afternoon, I bitterly regretted ever thinking that.

If I didn't have debts to pay, I might have already run out of there in tears.

"Of course, Mr. Winter. Whatever you say, Mr. Winter…" I muttered to myself as I stacked folders on my new boss's desk.

His office looked like a mausoleum made of glass and concrete. It was cold and perfect. Not a single sheet of paper was out of place, as if any trace of humanity had been deliberately erased.

"He probably sleeps in a cryogenic capsule and recharges via USB," I grumbled under my breath.

"Review the spreadsheet, Miss Harper.

"Bring me my schedule, Miss Harper."

Not even a good afternoon?

I turned to file a folder in the cabinet, still talking to myself.

"I bet if I say 'Hey, Siri,' he answers. 'Robot Winter, model 001, reporting for—'"

"Robot?"

The blood drained from my face.

I turned slowly.

Damian Winter stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. His gaze fixed on me, with one eyebrow raised. There was no visible emotion and definitely no hint of humor.

My heart pounded so loudly it nearly drowned out the awkward silence between us.

"Did you just… call me a robot?"