He Chose His Mistress, So I Chose Justice

My forty-million-dollar contract had been sitting on the receptionist's desk for a full week, held up by the boss's well-connected niece.

The client's legal team finally ran out of patience and sent over a formal letter, saying they wanted to reassess the terms of the partnership.

I took the printed letter straight to Nathan Matthews, our VP and my boyfriend.

"Are you sure you want to keep covering for her? If this deal falls through, can you carry that?"

He barely glanced at it. "I already talked to Evelyn Randall on Monday. She's just swamped.