Chapter 6: Who's the CEO Here?

Tears brimmed in Elise's eyes, making her appear the picture of vulnerability, "Sister, how could you say such a thing…" "Ivy, don't you think you're going a bit too far?" Tristan's warning came with a veneer of authority. Ivy couldn't help but find humor in the situation, though she couldn't be bothered to give them another glance, "Aunt Gwendolyn, would you mind showing our guests out?" Aunt Gwendolyn patted Ivy's shoulder sympathetically. Despite her outward strength, the undercurrents of loss and fragility were not lost on her. "To the gentleman and his party, please, Madam needs her rest," she said with a frostiness that matched the chill outside. Wynn, seeing her daughter slighted by Ivy, clenched her teeth in anger. "Ms. Ashford, I understand our visit was abrupt, but you have no right to insult my daughter so freely! Where are your manners?" Her act of a tearful mother seeking justice for her daughter was Oscar-worthy. Ivy turned, her gaze icy, "For an outsider to come into someone's home and lecture them on manners, now that's rich." She emphasized "outsider," making her stance clear. Wynn needed to recognize her place – not here, causing a scene like a dog that won't let go of its bite. Utterly bothersome! Tristan's eyes flared, "We're already registered for marriage, with the wedding set for next month! How's that for an 'outsider'?!" His words struck Ivy like lightning, freezing her in place. Registered... married? Since when? Ivy clenched her fists, confronting the familiar yet estranged face before her, each word deliberate, "And where, pray tell, does that leave my mother?" With her mother still bedridden in the hospital, Tristan was quick to stage a drama of elevating the mistress? Were they secretly hoping her mother would never wake? Tristan glanced away guiltily but maintained his authoritarian tone, "Your mother and I are divorced. My marital choices are no longer her concern." Ivy's eyes glittered with an icy amusement, her lips curling into a smirk, "Very well, as you wish!" "However, the house can't accommodate irrelevant parties, especially since I have a phobia of dirt. Aunt Gwendolyn, would you mind relocating their luggage to the storage room in the backyard? And do make sure our... guests feel welcome." Her words were laced with unmistakable sarcasm. Elise, fuming, looked like she was about to leap at Ivy, only to be held back by Wynn. Ivy glanced at them coldly, the corners of her lips turning up, "Seems like you'll have to swallow that anger..." "Because this is just the beginning." Her gaze swept over Tristan with a thinly veiled threat before she turned to leave. She couldn't bear to look at him a moment longer. What kind of man had her mother fallen for? Stepping out of Ashford Manor, Ivy felt the air was suddenly fresher by more than just a notch. Unable to return to Ashford Manor, she decided to check into a hotel. However, when the front desk Madam handed back her card with a sympathetic, "I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Ashford, your bank account has been frozen," Ivy was flabbergasted. The urge to punch someone was overwhelming. Clearly, this was the handiwork of her darling grandfather, predicting the old man at home would bring his new family over, thus freezing her assets to force her into seeking Cecil's help. But Ivy wasn't one to fold so easily. Lying in Aunt Gwendolyn's old bed that night, amidst the melancholy chirping of cicadas, Ivy mused, "First order of business, finding a job seems most prudent." With that realization, she eagerly started sending out resumes online. After all, wasn't she, Ivy, a PhD who had made a name for herself within The Ashford's business empire? Expectations were high, but reality was harsh. The very phrase she once hurled at Cecil was now her own bitter experience. The major companies she was interested in had interview slots only available next month. As she pondered whether to busk on the streets or carve a new path, an unexpected interview invitation popped up from a company. Warrington Group? Her lips quirked in interest, and she hit the accept button. The next day, she arrived at Warrington Group on time, only to find someone already waiting for her at the entrance. "Ah, Ms. Ashford, right? Please, follow me," the front desk Madam greeted Ivy with a smile blooming like a flower in spring. She then adopted a mysteriously silent demeanor, adding an air of intrigue to the proceedings. The elevator ascended to the 23rd floor. Ivy was led into an office that was tastefully decorated in the minimalist style she adored, a pleasant surprise indeed. "So, what exactly is the position you have in store for me?" Ivy inquired, hoping it wasn't merely a decorative role. "Congratulations, Ms. Ashford, you're going to be our CEO's secretary. The previous secretary will hand over the duties to you," announced the front desk Madam with barely concealed glee, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "You're quite fortunate; many vie for this position to no avail." At that moment, a woman in business attire slammed a stack of files onto the desk with a 'thwap' and shot Ivy a glare before storming off. This must be the former secretary Madam mentioned, not exactly thrilled to pass the baton. But the document calling for her interview clearly outlined her academic expertise; how did that translate to a secretarial role? Ivy's confusion deepened, "And who, pray tell, is your CEO?" "Do you not peruse the financial magazines?" The front desk Madam asked incredulously. "Our CEO, the illustrious primary heir of the Warrington Group, is none other than Cecil!" "What!" The familiarity of the name made Ivy's heart skip a beat. She had not anticipated such a twist of fate in a world that seemed too small for coincidences. The front desk Madam, starry-eyed, continued, "Our CEO, oh, he's the epitome of charm and grace, not at all the aloof figure the media portrays him to be." Ivy was speechless. What spell had bewitched the young women of today into such fervent adoration? Were they blind to Cecil's biting wit and flamboyant demeanor?