Daughter's Hidden Power

The office was unusually quiet as I walked back from lunch, most of my colleagues still lingering in the cafeteria. I glanced at Sebastian's desk—he'd rushed off to take a call from his mother, leaving his phone unlocked and face-up on his keyboard. A notification popped up on his screen, the name "Mom" flashing with a preview of her message:

"I don't care how long you've been with her. You need to end this now."

My fingers froze midair, hovering over my own desk. Something in her tone made me pause. Sebastian never left his phone unlocked. Never. But there it was, open and vulnerable, just like my heart had been for the past three years.

I shouldn't look. I knew I shouldn't.

But my hand moved before my conscience could stop it, picking up his phone with trembling fingers.

"You're getting nowhere with that poor office girl hanging around your neck," his mother's message continued. "Do you think she'll help your career? Do you think she'll open doors for you?"

My chest tightened as I scrolled up, reading their entire conversation.

"Mom, please understand. I love Phoebe."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sebastian. Love won't get you ahead in this world. Office romance will destroy your career prospects. You need connections, not distractions."

"But she's not—"

"She's nothing. A nobody. Do you think executives at head office will take you seriously with her clinging to you? Think about what I'm saying. I've already spoken to your father about this."

Sebastian's response made my heart stutter: "I'll think about it."

Think about it. Three years together, and he'd write "I'll think about it" to his mother's demand that he leave me.

I carefully placed his phone back exactly as I'd found it, my vision blurring with unshed tears. I busied myself with paperwork, trying to focus on anything but the betrayal burning in my chest.

---

That evening, Sebastian found me in our apartment, curled up on the couch with a book I wasn't really reading.

"What's wrong?" he asked, dropping his keys on the counter. "You've barely said two words since I picked you up."

I couldn't look at him. Not yet. "Nothing."

"Phoebe." His voice softened as he sat beside me, taking my hands in his. "I know when something's bothering you."

I finally met his eyes, seeing nothing but concern there. Did he really care? Or was this all part of some elaborate act?

"I saw your messages with your mom today," I said quietly.

His face went blank for a moment—just long enough for me to know I'd hit the mark.

"What did you see?" he asked carefully.

"That she wants us to break up. That you said you'd think about it."

Before I could say anything else, Sebastian pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest.

"Phoebe, listen to me," he whispered urgently into my hair. "I don't care what my mother says. I love you. Only you."

His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear as he continued, "I would never leave you for a promotion or connections or anything else. You're more important than any career advancement."

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted so badly to believe him.

"What about what you wrote to her?" I asked, my voice muffled against his shirt.

"That was just to calm her down until I could talk to you." He pulled back to look into my eyes, his expression intense. "I choose you, Phoebe. Always you."

---

Three days later, the entire department gathered in the conference room, buzzing with speculation about the new supervisor who'd been assigned to us.

"Attention, please," a sharp voice cut through the chatter as a woman in an impeccable charcoal suit strode to the front of the room.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun, not a strand out of place. Dark eyes swept over us like a general assessing troops.

"I'm Anastasia Franklin," she announced, her voice carrying effortlessly through the room. "Your new supervisor."

I felt Sebastian straighten beside me, suddenly alert and interested in a way he hadn't been in weeks.

"I come with extensive experience and connections with head office executives," she continued, a hint of smugness in her tone. "And I have zero tolerance for mediocrity."

Her gaze lingered on me for a fraction too long, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

"I expect absolute compliance with my directives," she said. "This department will run according to my standards from now on."

Sebastian's hand wasn't holding mine anymore. I glanced over to see him leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on Anastasia with undisguised interest.

"I understand you've had quite a bit of success with the Morrison account," he said, his voice carrying in the silence that followed her speech.

Anastasia's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yes, indeed. The Morrison executives were particularly impressed with my handling of their recent restructuring."

Sebastian nodded appreciatively. "I'd love to hear more about that sometime."

Something cold slithered down my spine as I watched them—the way she looked at him, the way he looked at her.

Just three days ago, he'd sworn I was more important than any career advancement.