Scarlett's Pov
I could feel my pulse in my throat as I walked into the interview room. My heels clicked against the polished floor, each step measured, precise. I was prepared. I was confident. I was ready.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
The panel sat at a long, dark table, their eyes trained on me as I took my seat. Three people—two women and a man—were in the room, but it was the man in the center who held my attention.
His name was neatly displayed on a sleek, silver name plaque in front of him: Richard Davenport – Senior Hiring Manager.
His sharp suit and neatly combed hair gave him an air of authority, but there was something else in his gaze. Something unreadable. I felt his eyes scan me in a way that sent a chill down my spine. I didn't know him. I had never seen him before. But something about the way he looked at me made my stomach twist.
Still, I kept my expression calm. Professional. This was the biggest interview of my life, and I wasn't about to let nerves get in the way.
"Miss Monroe," Richard said, flipping through my résumé. "Impressive background. Top of your class. Excellent recommendations. Let's see if your intelligence matches your credentials."
The questions started.
One by one, I answered them flawlessly. The company's financial reports? I had memorized them. Their recent acquisitions? I broke down the details effortlessly. The unexpected, out-of-nowhere curveball questions meant to catch me off guard? I tackled them with confidence.
I was doing well. I could feel it. Even the other two interviewers seemed impressed, exchanging brief glances as I spoke.
But Richard…
He wasn't impressed. He wasn't even neutral. He was… amused. Like he already knew something I didn't.
His next question was different. His voice was calm, too casual. "Do you consider yourself a moral person, Miss Monroe?"
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"It's a simple question. Do you think integrity is important in a professional environment?"
"Of course," I said, my voice unwavering. "Integrity is the foundation of any successful career."
He smiled. A slow, knowing smile that made my stomach sink. "Interesting," he mused, tapping his pen against the table. "Because I saw you last night. At the bar."
A cold weight settled in my chest.
"I saw you leave with a man," Richard continued, tilting his head. "And yet here you are, sitting in front of me, expecting to be taken seriously in a corporate environment. Tell me, Miss Monroe, do you really think someone with… such indecent behavior belongs in a place like this?"
For a second, I thought I misheard him.
Then rage. White-hot and blinding.
I forced my hands to stay still in my lap, even as every muscle in my body screamed to slap the smug expression off his face.
"My personal life has nothing to do with my professional abilities," I said, my voice dangerously calm.
Richard chuckled. "That's where you're wrong. Here at Calloway Enterprises, we value image. Reputation. And frankly, someone who sleeps around—"
"Excuse me?"
The words snapped out of me before I could stop them.
The other two interviewers shifted uncomfortably, but neither spoke.
"You heard me," Richard said, still smirking. "I don't hire women who lack professionalism. I don't care how many questions you got right. Your kind—"
"My kind?"
"Women who think they can climb the corporate ladder with their looks and… extracurricular activities."
Something in me snapped.
I stood up so fast my chair scraped against the floor. "I feel sorry for you," I said, my voice low. "You see a woman succeeding, and your first thought isn't her intelligence or hard work—it's her sex life. That says more about you than it does about me."
Richard's smirk faltered for half a second.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "I don't need this job that badly. But I wonder how your superiors would feel knowing you're rejecting qualified candidates based on your personal insecurities. Something tells me they wouldn't be pleased."
His expression darkened. "You should leave now, Miss Monroe."
"Gladly."
I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, ignoring the burn in my eyes. I wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
The hallway blurred as I walked faster, my heels clicking against the floor. I had worked so hard for this. Prepared so much. And it hadn't mattered.
Because I was a woman.
Because I had spent one night enjoying myself like a normal adult.
Because some bitter, misogynistic man had decided my entire career should be tossed aside over something that was none of his business.
I could already hear my friends' voices in my head. Ava would be furious. Riley would be ready to start a full-blown campaign against the company.
And me?
I was just… tired.
I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat as I turned a corner, focused only on getting out of this building before I completely lost it.
But then—
A woman in a crisp navy suit nearly collided with me.
"Oh, thank God!" she blurted out, grabbing my arm. "You're the intern, right? The one for the presentation?"
Wait. What?
"I—"
"You're late! We're already behind schedule. Come on!"
Before I could protest, she pulled me into a large boardroom—one filled with powerful business executives in expensive suits.
A dozen pairs of eyes turned to me.
And just like that, I was trapped in a room full of the most important people in the company, expected to give a presentation I knew nothing about.