The Heiress in the Cardigan
For three months, I had been “Ava,” the mousy, invisible executive assistant to Marcus Sterling. I wore glasses I didn’t need, oversized cardigans that swallowed my figure, and I fetched coffee for a man who didn’t know the difference between a spreadsheet and a spread sheet.
Marcus was the Regional VP of Sinclair Global. He was forty-five, wore cologne that smelled like desperation and musk, and had a reputation for “burning through” assistants. The HR files said they quit due to “stress.” The water cooler gossip said they quit because Marcus Sterling couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
I wasn’t there for the paycheck. My real name is Ava Sinclair. My father is Robert Sinclair, the Chairman and owner of this entire fifty-story skyscraper. I was undercover, conducting a “toxicity audit” before taking my seat on the Board.
And Marcus Sterling had just failed the audit.
Chapter 1: The Late Night Request
It was 8:00 PM. The office floor was empty, the cleaning crew humming vacuums in the distance. I was packing my bag, ready to leave my “internship” behind, when the intercom buzzed.
“Ava? My office. Bring the merger files.”
Marcus’s voice was slurring slightly. He’d been drinking scotch since lunch.
I took a deep breath, adjusted my thick-rimmed glasses, and grabbed the files. I knew this was it. The test.
When I walked in, the lights were dimmed. Marcus was sitting on the edge of his mahogany desk, his tie loosened. He didn’t look at the files. He looked at me.
“You’re working late, Ava,” he smiled, a predatory grin that made my skin crawl. “You’re very dedicated. I like that in a girl.”
“Just doing my job, Mr. Sterling,” I said, keeping my voice small and shaky. I placed the folder on the desk. “If that’s all, I need to catch the bus.”
“The bus,” he chuckled, standing up and walking around the desk. He blocked my path to the door. “You know, Ava, you have potential. But you dress like a librarian. I bet there’s something… wild underneath all that wool.”
He stepped closer. I stepped back. My back hit the door.
“Mr. Sterling, please let me pass.”
“Call me Marcus,” he whispered. He was close enough that I could smell the expensive scotch on his breath. “You want a promotion, don’t you? You want to be more than just a coffee girl? I can make that happen. But you have to be… friendly.”
Chapter 2: The Strike
He didn’t wait for an answer. He reached out.
His hand, heavy and clammy, landed on my shoulder. Then, with a disgusting familiarity, he slid it down my arm, his fingers digging into my waist, pulling me towards him. His other hand reached up to stroke my cheek.
“Don’t be shy,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss my neck.
The act dropped.
The “mousy intern” vanished. Three years of Krav Maga training kicked in.
I didn’t just push him away. I reacted.
I grabbed his wrist with my left hand, twisting it sharply outward until the joint locked. At the same time, I drove the palm of my right hand hard into his solar plexus.
Thud.
The air left his lungs in a wheezing gasp. He stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet, and crashed into his expensive leather chair, knocking it over. He landed on the floor in a heap of limbs and shock.
“Do not touch me,” I said. My voice wasn’t shaky anymore. It was ice-cold steel.
Marcus gasped for air, his face turning red, then purple with rage. He scrambled to his feet, clutching his chest.
“You… you little bitch!” he screamed, spittle flying. “You assaulted me! Did you see that? You assaulted a corporate officer!”
“I defended myself,” I said calmly, smoothing my cardigan. “You sexually harassed me.”
“Harassed you?” He laughed, a manic, angry sound. “Who’s going to believe you? You’re a nobody! You’re a temp! I am the Vice President of this region!”
He stormed over to his desk and slammed his hand on the phone.
“You’re fired! Get out! I’m going to call security and have you thrown out on the street. And I’ll make sure you never work in this city again. I’ll blacklist you so hard you won’t be able to get a job scrubbing toilets!”
He was shaking with fury, pointing a finger in my face. “You made a big mistake, honey. You messed with the wrong man.”
Chapter 3: The Reveal
I stood there, watching him rant. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cry.
Slowly, deliberately, I reached up and took off the thick, black-rimmed glasses. I tossed them onto his desk. They clattered loudly against the wood.
Next, I pulled the hair tie out of my messy bun. My long, dark hair cascaded down my back. I stood up straighter, shedding the hunch I’d adopted for three months.
Marcus stopped yelling. He blinked, confused by the transformation.
“You’re right, Marcus,” I said. My voice was completely different now—authoritative, polished, the voice of a woman raised in boardrooms. “I did make a mistake.”
“What… what are you doing?” he stammered.
“My mistake,” I continued, walking past him to the window that overlooked the city, “was thinking that a simple audit would be enough to fix this department. I didn’t realize the rot went all the way to the head.”
“Audit?” Marcus narrowed his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
I pulled my phone from my pocket. I didn’t dial 911. I dialed a speed dial number.
” Dad,” I said into the phone, my eyes locked on Marcus. “I’m in Sterling’s office. Yes. It’s done. He just fired me. And… he put his hands on me.”
I paused, listening to the roar of anger on the other end of the line.
“No, I handled it. But you might want to come up. Bring security. And HR.”
I hung up.
Marcus was staring at me. The color was draining from his face. The arrogance was being replaced by a slow, creeping horror.
“Dad?” he whispered. “Who is your father?”
I turned to face him. I reached into my purse—not the cheap canvas tote I brought to work, but the designer clutch hidden inside it—and pulled out a platinum ID badge.
“You know the name on the building, Marcus?” I asked softly.
He looked at the badge. It read:
AVA SINCLAIR
Director of Global Operations / Board Member
“Sinclair?” Marcus choked. His knees actually buckled. He grabbed the desk for support. “Robert Sinclair… is your…”
“My father,” I finished. “And I am your boss’s boss’s boss.”
Chapter 4: The Termination
The elevator doors dinged.
It wasn’t security. It was Robert Sinclair himself, flanked by the Head of HR and two massive security guards. My father looked like a thunderstorm wrapped in a bespoke suit.
“Ava,” he said, striding into the room. He didn’t look at me; he looked at Marcus. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “He tried to grab me. I had to use the wrist-lock maneuver.”
Robert Sinclair turned his gaze to Marcus. Marcus was trembling. He looked like a man facing a firing squad.
“Mr. Chairman!” Marcus squeaked. “Sir! It’s… it’s a misunderstanding! She… she came onto me! She’s unstable! I was just trying to—”
“Marcus,” I cut in. I tapped my phone. “I’ve been recording audio since I walked into the room. ‘I bet there’s something wild underneath all that.’ ‘You have to be friendly.’ Do you want me to play it for the Board?”
Marcus closed his mouth. He slumped against the wall, defeated.
“Marcus Thorne,” my father said, his voice low and terrifying. “You are terminated. Immediately. For cause. There will be no severance. There will be no reference.”
“But…” Marcus whimpered.
“And,” I added, stepping forward so I was toe-to-toe with him. “I am filing charges for sexual assault. We have the recording. We have the bruises you’re going to leave on my wrist. My lawyers will be in touch.”
“You can’t…” Marcus cried. “I have a mortgage! I have a reputation!”
“You had a reputation,” I corrected. “Now, you have a criminal record.”
I turned to the security guards.
“Escort Mr. Thorne out of the building,” I ordered. “He is not allowed to pack his personal items. We will ship them to him after we inspect them for stolen company property.”
“Yes, Ms. Sinclair,” the guards boomed. They grabbed Marcus by the arms.
As they dragged him out, kicking and screaming like a toddler, he looked back at me one last time.
“I didn’t know!” he wailed. “I didn’t know who you were!”
“That’s the point, Marcus,” I called after him. “You shouldn’t have treated me with respect because of who my father is. You should have treated me with respect because I am a human being.”
The doors closed. The silence returned.
My father let out a long breath and put a hand on my shoulder. “Good work, Ava. But next time… maybe just fire him before he touches you?”
I smiled, rubbing my wrist. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I think the rest of the department needed to hear him scream.”
I walked over to the desk, picked up the files he had asked for, and dropped them in the trash can.
“I’m taking tomorrow off, Dad,” I said, grabbing my bag. “The ‘intern’ just quit. The Director returns on Monday.”
