He Vetoed My Promotion for the New Girl Chapter 01

He Vetoed My Promotion for the New Girl Chapter 01

After getting passed over for a promotion yet again, I crouched outside the company and texted my boyfriend.

[It’s so hot. Could some kind Mr. Thorne give me a ride home?]

Ten minutes later, Graham Thorne’s Maybach pulled out of the garage.

It drove right past me without stopping.

A moment later, his text came in.

[Too many people around the office. Walk one block ahead. I’ll wait for you there.]

Right then, a photo popped up in the work group chat.

It showed Mira Barlow, fresh off her promotion, climbing into the passenger seat of Graham’s car.

Everyone in the group went wild.

They said he was hot, she was gorgeous—total power couple.

I looked at the photo on my phone, then at the sun beating down on the long stretch of street.

And it hit me—it was time to end this relationship we’d kept hidden.

—

Graham’s car merged into traffic.

Within seconds, I couldn’t even make out the taillights.

The work group chat was still blowing up.

[I knew Mr. Thorne treated Mira differently. Last week she said she wanted bubble tea, and next thing you know, Mr. Thorne’s buying it for the whole company.]

[And during today’s internal promotion process, Mr. Thorne couldn’t take his eyes off Mira. He had that grin he couldn’t hide the whole time.]

[Right? When that groupie went up there, he was stone-cold. Didn’t even look at her. Night and day.]

[Please. The fact that Mr. Thorne hasn’t fired her is already generous. And she still thought she’d get promoted?]

[Honestly, getting tangled up with someone like that… Mr. Thorne must have the worst luck ever.]

Heat shimmered above the pavement.

I stayed crouched there, my fingertips cold against my phone.

A few coworkers happened to leave for the day.

The moment they saw me, their eyes lit up, and their fingers flew across their screens.

I avoided their eyes.

But then I remembered the things I’d overheard in the breakroom.

“That woman who’s been here forever.”

“Mr. Thorne’s pathetic little groupie.”

After five years of keeping us under wraps, all the hurt I’d been swallowing was finally about to spill over.

My phone rang. It was Graham.

“You’re not here yet?”

His voice was calm—no trace of emotion at all.

Somehow, that hurt more than anything. Like a needle in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Are you crying?” He caught the change in my voice. “Just because you didn’t get the promotion?”

I could almost picture him rubbing his forehead, already irritated.

“So you asked me to pick you up just so you could show off?”

“Don’t be childish. I’ve told you, we need to keep our distance at work.”

“And our relationship isn’t some weapon for you to use at work.”

A crushing ache tightened around my chest.

I’d heard those words for five years. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Are we some dirty little secret?”

“I’m upset. I just wanted to ride home with my boyfriend. Is that so wrong?”

“Or is there someone else? Am I the side piece?”

The summer air was thick and sticky. Even the breeze had died.

I tightened my grip on my phone and waited for his answer.

A couple on an electric scooter passed in front of me, laughing and chatting as they rode.

I couldn’t help staring.

Before Graham went back to Thornes, we used to be like that.

He’d drive me to and from work on his scooter.

Whenever we ran into someone he knew, he’d take my hand without hesitation and say, “This’s my girlfriend.”

Then he went back to Thorne & Co. and took over the company.

As the heir who’d been parachuted into the top job, Graham had plenty of people paying lip service while quietly waiting for him to screw up.

At the hardest point, Graham asked me if I could come to Thorne & Co. and help him.

I agreed without a second thought.

Even when he said we needed to keep our distance so no one could use us against him, I worried about him first—not myself.

In six months, I landed in the hospital three times with stomach bleeding.

I helped him close the Westbrook Estates deal and handed him his first big win.

At the celebration that night, I thought he’d finally tell everyone about us.

Instead, he said, “Elara, can we wait a little longer?”

“The old guard’s still watching my every move. I can’t risk us.”

“Once I’ve firmly established myself, we’ll tell everyone.”

Year after year, he went from walking on eggshells to having complete control of the company.

He’d been firmly established for a long time. Yet he always told me to wait.

I didn’t want to wait anymore.

“Graham, come pick me up.” I paused. “Or we’re done.”

His breathing suddenly grew heavier.

I knew what that meant—he was pissed.

“Elara, don’t be unreasonable.”

The call ended.

Just before the line went dead, I heard Mira’s bright, cheerful voice.

“Mr. Thorne, coming to our little get-together?”

A moment later, my phone buzzed.

[I’ve got other plans.]

[Take a cab home.]

A while later, another message came through.

[And don’t ever say “we’re done” again.]

[I don’t do threats.]