The word echoed unpleasantly in my head.
I glanced toward Oblivion, who watched me with an unreadable expression, his attention intent and assessing. A part of me wanted to feel triumphant, vindicated even after yesterday’s humiliation. Instead, a hollow unease settled deep within my chest.
“There is, however, just… erm… one condition,” Banner added, hesitating briefly. But of course there was, I thought bitterly.
“You’ll be working closely with Mr. Minos’s team on this,” he continued.
“On-site as needed. He’s offered to compensate us for the disruption, including reassigning your other accounts so you can focus exclusively on this campaign.”
My breath caught.
“Reassign my accounts?” I repeated, my tone full of high-pitched disbelief.
“Yes,” Banner said, nodding.
“It’s a significant opportunity, Eliza. Exposure, experience, resources we don’t normally have access to.”
Exposure.
Experience.
Resources.
All the right words, neatly stacked like a sales pitch of his own. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. My thoughts tangled as I tried to merge the professional opportunity with the gnawing sense that something fundamental was being taken from me. I should have been thrilled. This was the kind of break other people built careers on.
Instead, all I could think was that none of this felt earned.
It felt like nothing but a ruse.
I could feel Oblivion’s knowing gaze on me, as if he were watching the exact moment the weight of the cost finally settled.
“Take a moment,” Banner said, mistaking my silence for awe.
“I know it’s a lot to take in.”
A lot to take in.
That was one way of fucking putting it.
Mr. Banner glanced between us, clearly misreading the tension tightening my shoulders as awe rather than alarm. He let out a small, pleased laugh.
“I think she’s in shock,” he said lightly.
“But I’m sure she’s thrilled.Aren’t you, Eliza?”His tone suggested that I better be.
I dragged my attention back to him, blinking after he continued talking, but I was completely lost by this point.
Lost to an Oblivion of fears.
“I’m sorry,” I said faintly, trying to replay the last five minutes and asking myself if it was still real. Oblivion’s gaze flicked to Banner, then returned to me, something intent and watchful there. As though he were tracking every fracture in my composure.
“I was saying, you’ll be working very closely with Mr. Minos and his people. He’s made it quite clear that your involvement is…essential,”Banner continued, missing the shift in my demeanor entirely.
Essential…The word landed with a dull thud.
“I don’t understand,” I finally admitted slowly with a slight shake of my head.
“You want me to leave the office?”
