The breaking point came three months later: the Annual Industry Gala, the biggest social event of the year, where million-dollar deals were sealed over champagne.
“I need you to come with me,” Ethan said one Tuesday afternoon without looking up from his documents.
“Of course, sir. I’ll prepare the briefing and the schedule for—”
“No,” he interrupted, lifting his eyes. “Not as my assistant. As my date.”
Silence swallowed the office.
“Mr. Caldwell… that wouldn’t be appropriate. I work for you. People will—”
“People will talk no matter what,” Ethan said evenly. “There’s an investor—Mr. Harrison Mendoza. Old-school. He values family, values, stability. If I show up alone or with a hired model, he won’t trust me. With you…” His voice softened just a fraction. “With you, it’s different. You’re real.”
Jasmine agreed reluctantly—pushed by duty, and deep down, by a secret feeling she didn’t dare name.
The night of the gala, Jasmine was terrified. She used part of her savings to buy a new dress—simple, elegant, deep wine-red. When Ethan arrived in his sports car to pick her up, he went silent for a moment.
It wasn’t the dress.
It was her.
Jasmine shone with her own light.