CHAPTER 93: TWO YEARS LATER

Two years later.

Beauty was in a deep, groggy sleep when her phone suddenly blared to life.

She threw off the covers and bolted upright in bed.

"Is this Miss Mercedes?

I’m calling from the HR department of Marson Corporation.

We’d like to invite you for an interview tomorrow."

"Oh!

Sure, please send me the company address, and I—" She glanced down at her wristwatch, rubbing her temples before adding, "I’ll be there promptly at ten."

The caller remained courteous, rattling off a few more instructions—reminding her to bring her resume and a personal presentation for the interview.

Still bleary-eyed, Beauty ran a hand through her hair and stifled a massive yawn behind her palm.

Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, she shot to her feet, eyes wide.

"Wait—what company did you say you were from?"

The HR rep clearly hadn’t expected such a clueless question.

After years in recruitment, this was the first time someone had reacted so indifferently upon hearing the company’s name.

It was obvious she hadn’t been paying attention at all—her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"We’re Marson Corporation.

You *do* know Marson Corporation, right?

The multinational based in New York?"

The incredulous tone made Beauty swallow hard.

Squinting, she muttered, "But I never applied to your company.

How did you even get my number?"

The HR rep chuckled politely, maintaining patience.

"Miss Mercedes, we’re a global enterprise.

Every resume we receive goes through rigorous screening.

You’re undoubtedly qualified, but if you hadn’t applied, how would we have your contact details?

Do you really think we’re like those small-time firms that cast wide nets for candidates?

We only pursue the best."

Though the recruiter’s tone carried an unshakable authority, Beauty couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride.

After all, no one dislikes hearing praise about their excellence.

But she truly hadn’t submitted her resume—how could she be foolish enough to walk right into Lucas’s clutches?

She had applied to companies big and small across paris, except for the Marson Corporation.

Not that she could deny the company’s prestige.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to work there—she just didn’t want to see Lucas.

"Honestly, I really, *really* didn’t send my resume to your company.

Could you show me what the submitted one looks like?

Maybe it was a mistake..."

The HR officer sucked in a sharp breath. In all her years at Marson Corporation, she had never encountered an applicant like this—someone who claimed their resume had been sent by accident.

The audacity!

But upholding her professional integrity, she forced an awkward smile.

Suppressing an internal eye-roll, she was about to recite the email address when she suddenly froze.

"What’s your email?"

Beauty rattled off her address smoothly, then smiled.

"Is that the one the resume was sent from?"

"Of course not," the HR officer blurted out before catching herself.

"That’s the email for the CEO’s office."

Quickly recovering, she beamed.

"Miss Mercedes, your resume was submitted through our CEO’s office.

Is there... an issue?"

"None at all," Beauty replied smoothly.

"Don’t worry, I’ll be there for the interview on time."

Beauty was now wide awake.

Gritting her teeth, she spat out those words before hanging up the TV call, so furious she could punch a hole through the wall.

She then dialed the CEO’s office, and the call was picked up by his assistant.

Recognizing the number immediately, the assistant’s voice was icy.

"What do you want with Mr. Marson?

He’s in a meeting right now."

"I just want to know—did he submit my resume for me?"

Beauty had never been one to beat around the bush, and she certainly didn’t feel the need to with Lucas’s assistant.

If she was the unruly monkey, then this assistant was the all-seeing —a towering presence that made her feel insignificant.

There was no winning against her.

"That’s correct.

The CEO instructed me to prepare it, incorporating your academic background and professional skills.

Why?

Did HR call you in for an interview?"

"Yes.

But here’s what I don’t get—if Lucas wants me in the company, all he has to do is say the word.

I wouldn’t dare refuse, and no one else in the company would dare object.

So why bother with the resume?

Is the CEO’s office really that boring?"

The assistant let out a cold chuckle.

A crisp, mocking voice came through the receiver.

"That’s company policy.

If everyone got in through backdoor deals, rules would be meaningless.

HR has to approve you first—only then can you join the company legitimately, instead of clinging to Lucas’s coattails."

Beauty scoffed at that last remark.

*As if I’ve ever clung to him!* she fumed inwardly.

*If anything, he’s the one who’s been squeezing me dry all these years—so much that this once-vibrant flower of the motherland is practically a dried-up husk now.*

"What if I say I don’t want to work at Marson Corp?"

She knew resistance was futile, but she had to try.

"What do you think?

Both you and I know exactly how temperamental President Marson is.

When has defying him ever ended well for anyone?"

*Pfft...* This assistant really had no filter.

She could only exhale deeply.

"Well then, Auntie Assistant, would you kindly relay my message to your dear President Marson?

See you soon!"

With that, she playfully hung up, already picturing the fuming assistant on the other end.

Every time she called that assistant "Auntie," the woman probably wanted to grab a knife and chop Beauty’s head like a watermelon.

No woman liked being called "auntie"—especially not when Beauty was now twenty-two, far from the scrawny little girl she used to be.

The assistant was only four years older, but just because she worked as Lucas’s secretary, Beauty insisted on addressing her that way.

Whenever the assistant tried to correct her, Beauty would flash an angelic smile and retort,

"Lucas is my uncle, and you’re his assistant—that makes you his peer.

Weren’t you even classmates?

So if I call you ’auntie,’ the hierarchy is perfectly correct!"

The thought of the assistant nearly fuming into oblivion never failed to amuse her. ---

After freshening up, she picked out a black-and-white professional suit from her wardrobe.

It was a gift from Hannah, who claimed it would bring her good luck.

This was her first time wearing such a formal outfit.

She deliberately chose a pair of stiletto heels, pinned her hair up high, and let her slender, porcelain neck shine.

Fate had been unusually kind to her.

Over time, she had blossomed into an elegant, strikingly beautiful woman.

Even bare-faced, she could rival any movie star—if not outshine them altogether.

It had been months since Beauty last set foot in this building.

Every visit here seemed to bring nothing but trouble.

Dressed in professional attire and clicking her high heels, she strode straight toward the CEO’s private elevator.

The receptionists at the front desk all knew she was the boss’s trusted confidante, so they greeted her with deep bows and exaggerated politeness.

As the elevator doors slid open, Beauty stepped out and let out a long, relieved sigh.

She hadn’t seen Lucas in over a month. Recently, he had been staying at another villa, and she couldn’t have been more at ease—practically living it up every night.

Luck was on her side today. Just as she arrived, Lucas emerged from the conference room, his assistant busy brewing his coffee.

A knock sounded at the door. He strode over to open it, only to meet Beauty’s clear, defiant gaze.

He paused for a second before asking coolly, "What brings you here?"

"Don’t play dumb, Uncle.

You were the one who submitted my resume for me.

And now you’re asking why I’m here?"