V
“This is our department’s newest member,” Monica announced, opening the morning meeting with a bright smile. “She’ll be joining us on the PO product line, so let’s all work well together.” She gestured to the newcomer for an introduction.
“Hi everyone, I’m Niamh. I’m looking forward to working with all of you, and I hope we can get along,” Niamh said, her tone polite but reserved.
The room responded with a round of applause–everyone except Marina, who sat motionless, her expression unreadable.
“Marina, do you know her?” Genevieve asked, noticing the stiff way Marina stared at Niamh.
Marina forced a smile, dodging the question. She couldn’t believe it. Of all people, their department’s new hire was Niamh.
Marina remembered Niamh had studied jewelry design at university–at least, that’s what she’d told people. But Niamh never graduated. No degree, no diploma. How on earth did FY hire someone like that?
Marina herself had endured two rounds of written exams and three interviews just to land an internship here, and she’d come from a top–tier university. But Niamh, with nothing but her high school diploma and a mysterious past, had somehow waltzed right in…
Her grip on her pen tightened until she almost snapped it in ha‘‘
Suddenly, she recalled the last FY company celebration, and a cunning idea began
to form.
After Niamh lost her job at the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center, she accepted Peter’s offer to join FY. Peter had wanted to make her the department manager, but Niamh politely turned him down. He then suggested she lead a team, but again, she
refused.
In the end, Peter could only agree to let her start as a regular employee.
It wasn’t that Niamh lacked ambition. She had her reasons. She knew her missing diploma would eventually come to light; she couldn’t hide it forever. She’d never done an internship or built a résumé at another company. If she parachuted in as a manager, the whispers would never stop.
Besides, Niamh had no intention of revealing her identity as the designer behind the Grand Piano Collection–she dreaded the attention, and the inevitable questions
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about her inspiration.
Helping Peter from an ordinary role was good enough.
Later, in the restroom, Genevieve and Melanie were gossiping by the sinks as they washed their hands.
“I mean, seriously,” Melanie huffed, “how does someone with just a high school diploma get hired here?”
“Her job’s not like ours, is it?” Genevieve replied, lowering her voice. “We work ourselves to death, while she just lies back and gets paid for…well, you know.”
“Shh, that’s a bit much!” Melanie hissed.
“Oh, please! If she can do it, why should we keep quiet? Everyone knows she slept her way into this job. At first, I thought maybe she was some secret genius–turns out I was just naïve.”
Genevieve patted her friend’s shoulder. “It’s not like we’re any less attractive. Guess we’re just not shameless enough.”
Melanie snorted. “If she’s already doing all that, why bother working here? For the paycheck?”
“She’s trying to play the part of the classy rich girl. Looks good on the résumé, and makes it easier to snag her next target.”
The automatic faucet suddenly switched on, startling them both. They’d thought the restroom was empty.
Niamh stepped out of a stall, coolly washing her hands. She caught their eyes in the mirror, then walked past them without a word. The two women exchanged knowing glances, quickly gathering their things and disappearing.
They hadn’t mentioned her name, but Niamh was pretty sure she was the only one in the company with just a high school degree.
She sighed softly.
She’d only been in the restroom for five minutes, but when she returned to her desk, Monica scolded her for slacking off, accusing her of taking too long. Behind their computer screens, Genevieve and the others snickered.
At lunch, Marina made a show of ordering gourmet food delivery from a Michelin three–star restaurant for the entire office–everyone except Niamh.
Even Monica, their team lead, joined the others in the conference room. Through
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Chapter 37
the glass door, Niamh could see them chatting and laughing, shooting the occasional mocking glance her way.
Niamh sat alone at her desk, nibbling on a plain wrap as she tinkered with her
design draft, wondering if the path she’d chosen in the working world would always be this rough.
