<b>Chapter </b><b>107 </b>
Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled out her phone, scrolling to Jake’s number. This was more exciting than getting her degree.
The baby kicked, a sharp jab that made her press a hand to her side. “I know,” she murmured. “Everything’s changing again.”
Jake answered on the second ring. “Hey, Sutton, what’s up?”
“It’s happening,” she said, keeping her voice level despite the storm inside her. “I’m being transferred to development. Luca just told me to call you.”
A beat of silence, then Jake’s voice, bright with excitement: “Finally! Someone with actual sense around here<i>. </i><i>Come </i>find me as soon as you’re packed up.”
The elevator reached the lobby floor. Sutton stepped out, still processing everything. She couldn’t still believe Luca was her new boss. After months of believing he wanted nothing to do with her or their baby, he’d apparently been searching for her all along.
And now he wanted to get married.
Her chest tightened. Too much. It was all too much. She didn’t know if she could do that. His family hadn’t thought her good enough. Now she didn’t know if they were good enough for her and her baby.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” she told Jake, ending the call as she approached reception.
Stacey looked up, eyes widening at whatever expression Sutton was wearing. “What happened? Did he fire you?”
Sutton shook her head, setting her phone down as she lowered herself carefully into her chair. “No. The opposite, actually.” She let out a disbelievingugh. “I’ve been transferred to development. Effective immediately.”
“No way!” Stacey’s mouth fell open. “After they rejected you three times? That’s… wow. Did you ckmail the new boss or something? What do you have on him? Maybe I need it for a pay raise?”
Sutton couldn’t help the bitter smile that crossed her lips. Not secrets she would share with anyone. She didn’t want anyone here to know about their past. Not yet, maybe not ever. “Let’s just say he recognized my qualifications.”
“Well, it’s about damn time,<i>” </i>Stacey said, standing to give Sutton an awkward side–hug. “I’m happy for you. Really.” She pulled back<b>, </b>studying Sutton’s face. “But you look freaked out. Are you okay?”
Sutton reached for the empty box she’d been keeping under her desk for weeks, just in case she <b>got </b>fired or finally found something better. “I’m fine. Just… processing.”
She wasn’t fine. Her hands still trembled as she began gathering her meager belongings. Her nt was gone, thanks to Nicole. But she had <b>a </b>few personal items which included a framed photo of her sisters, a ceramic mug Keira had painted for her when she had been fourteen<b>, </b>a small <b>stack </b>of programming books she’d kept hidden in her drawer.
The notebook where she’d sketched out her Al virus detection system was already tucked safely in her bag. That wasing <b>with </b><b>her</b>, no matter <b>what </b>She would show everyone <b>at </b>Cybe10 what she was made of with that program.
“<b>I </b>can’t believe you’re actually escaping,<i>” </i>Stacey said, watching her pack. “Like, nobody transfers <b>out </b><b>of </b>reception. Especially not<b>…</b>” she trailed <b>off</b><b>, </b><b>eyes </b>flicking to Sutton’s belly.
“Especially not pregnant women?” Sutton finished for her.
Stacey <b>shrugged</b><b>. </b><b>“</b>You know how <b>it </b>is here. The boys‘ club doesn’t <b>exactly </b>wee <b>estrogen </b>into their <b>little </b><b>yground</b><b>, </b><b>Plus</b>, <b>Nicole’s </b><b>been </b><b>on </b><b>your </b><b>case </b><b>for </b>weeks<b>.</b><b>” </b>
<b>Sutton </b><b>nodded</b>, thinking <b>of </b>the three rejections <b>she’d </b>received. <b>Each </b>one <b>was </b>more <b>dismissive </b><b>than </b><b>the </bst.
<b>The </b><b>first </b><b>had </b>read… We regret <b>to </b><b>inform </b><b>you </b><b>that </b>your <b>qualifications </b>do <b>not </b><b>align </b>with <b>our </b><b>current </b><b>needs</b><b>.. </b>
<b>1/3 </b>
<b>The </b>second… While we appreciate your interest, we are seeking candidates with more specialized experience…
The final… The position has been filled with a candidate whose skills more closely match our requirements…
28
All lies. She knew the truth: they didn’t want a woman in their precious development team. She knew she would show them up. Thank god. She <b>wasn’t </b>just good. She could think outside the box and the guys currently on the development hadn’t even seen the box.
It felt too good to be true… was this a genuine recognition of her skills, or just Luca’s way of keeping her close? The suspición burned in her throat.
“Will you be okay handling reception alone?” Sutton asked, guilt mingling with her conflicted emotions.
Stacey waved a hand. “I’ll survive. They can get a temp in.”
The sound of footsteps made them both look up. Jake approached, his tall frame moving with purposeful strides, a genuine smile lighting his face.
“I couldn’t wait. Ready for the big leagues, Warner?” he asked, stopping at the desk.
Sutton returned his smile, grateful for his familiar presence. Jake and Stacey had been the only ones who’d treated her like a human being since Nicole’s arrival. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Jake nced at her half–filled box. “Need help?”
“I’ve got it,” she said, even as the baby decided to lodge a foot firmly under her ribs, making her wince.
Jake raised an eyebrow<b>, </b>unconvinced. “Uh–huh. Sure you do.” He reached for the box, anyway. “Let me take this. I may be gay, but I’m still <b>a </b>man and I’m not letting <b>a </b>pregnant woman take a box when I have two free hands. You grab your bag and say your goodbyes.”
Sutton didn’t argue. Her back had been aching all morning, and the confrontation with Luca had drained what little energy she had.
She stood, gathering her purse and the tablet she used for scheduling. Stacey gave her another quick hug.
“Text me how it goes<i>,</i><i>” </i>she whispered. “And if those dev jerks give you trouble, I’lle up and identally spill coffee on their keyboards, frying their
circuits.”
Suttonughed, feeling <b>a </b>rush of affection for the younger woman. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She followed Jake to the elevator. Once inside, Jake nced down at her. <b>“</b>You good? <b>You </b>seem… worried.”
Sutton sighed. “It’s been an interesting morning.”
“The hyped up bitch Nicole is not happy, I’m sure.”
“You know Nicole?” Sutton asked, surprised.
Jake snorted. “Unfortunately. She’s been with Luca for years. His right hand <b>for </b><b>all </b>the wrong reasons, if you ask me. She is very good at hiding her bitchy side from him.”
The elevator dinged, opening onto the development floor. Sutton took a steadying breath. Here went nothing.
The development floor was everything reception wasn’t<b>: </b><b>spacious</b>, well–<b>lit</b><b>, </b>with rows <b>of </b>ergonomic chairs and dual–monitor <b>setups</b><b>. </b>Whiteboards <b>covered </b>the walls, filled with diagrams and code snippets. The only noise was keyboard clicks <b>and </b><b>low </b><b>conversations</b>.
<b>As </b><b>they </b>walked through, heads turned. Conversations died. Eyes tracked their movement, lingering first <b>on </b><b>Sutton</b><b>, </b>Clearly <b>not </b><b>happy </b><b>she </b>was <b>in </b><b>their </b>
<b>space</b>.
Jake led <b>her </b><b>to </b>an open workstation near the <b>window</b>.. <b>prime </b><b>real </b><b>estate </b><b>in </b><b>as </b><b>far </b><b>as </b><b>she </b>was <b>concerned</b><b>. </b><b>He </b><b>set </b><b>her </b><b>box </b>down <b>on </b><b>the </b><b>pristine </b><b>desk</b><b>. </b>
<b>“</b><b>Everyone</b>,<b>” </b><b>he </b><b>called </b><b>out</b><b>, </b><b>his </b><b>voice </b><b>carrying </b><b>across </b><b>the </b><b>room</b><b>. </b><b>“</b><b>This </b><b>is </b><b>Sutton </b><b>Warner</b>. <b>She’s </b><b>joining </b>us <b>from </b><b>reception</b><b>, </b><b>but </b><b>don’t </b><b>let </b><b>that </b><b>fool </b><b>you</b><b>. </b><b>She’s </b><b>got </b><b>a </bp<b>–</b><b>sci </b>degree<b>, </b><b>and </b><b>she’s </b>been <b>working </b><b>on </b><b>some </b>serious <b>cool </b>virus <b>detection </b><b>software</b>. Make <b>her </b><b>feel </b><b>wee</b><b>. </b>
<b>2/3 </b>
<b>07:38 </b><b>Mon</b><b>, </b><b>30 </b><b>Jun </b>TO
The silence <b>that </b>followed was deafening.
<b>Sutton </b>forced <b>a </b>smile, meeting the stares head–on. “Hi,” she said simply.
A few mumbled greetings came back. Most just stared.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, this is Drew,” he said, pointing to anky guy with sses <b>at </b>the nearest desk. “That’s Raj and Kevin <b>by </b>the coffee machine. Mitch and Tyler are over there pretending to code, and the one with the headphones who’s ignoring everyone <b>is </b>Elliott.”
The men barely acknowledged the introductions. Tyler, she thought, gave her a quick once–over before turning back to his screen<b>. </b>It was funny <b>that </b><b>she </b>hadn’t known their names. well, she knew their names, just not who belonged <b>to </b>the names, none of them had ever said boo to her before.
“Charming bunch,” Sutton muttered.
Jake grinned. “They’ll warm up. Or they won’t, and I’ll make their lives hell. Either way.” He gestured to her new workspace. “This <b>is </b><b>all </b>yours. <b>You’ve </b>got admin ess, build permissions, and that ergonomic chair cost a lot. The rest is up to you.”
Sutton <i>set </i>her bag down, taking in the dual monitors, the pristine keyboard, the empty space waiting to be filled with her <b>work</b>. For <b>the </b>first <b>time </b><b>that </b>morning, a genuine smile tugged at her lips. This was what she’d been fighting for.
“Thank you<b>,</b>” she said quietly.
Jake patted her shoulder. “Don’t thank me. Just prove to everyone you are the gold child.”
As he walked away, Sutton settled into her new chair, which was indeed incrediblyfortable, and booted up the system. Her hands moved automatically, logging in<i>, </i>setting up her workspace the way she liked it. She connected her USB drive and pulled up the virus detection project she’d been working on for months.
The code filled the screen, familiar andforting. She’d built this piece by piece, line by line, during stolen moments at reception. Now she could finally work on it properly.
She was so absorbed that she didn’t notice someone approaching until a shadow fell across her keyboard.
“So, you’re the receptionist.”