Chapter 1I'm fluent in eight languages—but on my résumé, I only listed a "Level 8" certification in French.
My coworker. Also my bully. Mock my work, treat me like I'm worthless.
Until one day, the CEO's biggest client walked in speaking German. She panicked. The deal was falling apart.
I had two choices: stay hidden, or save the day.
I opened my mouth—and shocked the entire room.
Now he's offering me her job. Her office. And a position at his side.
She thought she buried me. She just made me his.
---
I'm fluent in eight languages.
German, French, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, Russian, Arabic—and of course, my mother tongue, English.
But in the three years I've been at Global Trade Solutions, my resume only lists one thing: a "Level 8" certification in French.
The reason is simple.
My dad was a diplomat and my mom was a simultaneous interpreter. I grew up drifting through seven different countries, so linguistic talent is literally etched into my DNA.
But they died in a car crash five years ago.
I don't want to use that stuff to show off, and I definitely don't want people digging into my past just to offer me pity.
I just want to stay under the radar as a low-level translator, earn a steady paycheck, rent a small apartment, and raise a cat.
Until the night of the annual gala.
The company gala was in full swing, and everyone was there. Our CEO, Joseph Harrison, stood on stage in a designer suit, looking smug as hell.
He spent ten minutes droning on about "gratitude", "future visions", and "all being in the same boat".
Then, he suddenly switched to German.
"Next year, I'm giving a seventy percent raise to everyone in this room who speaks German."
Out of the two hundred people in the audience, most couldn't understand a word, so they just kept clapping.
But I caught it.
Sitting next to me was Wendy Miller, the head of the German team. As soon as she heard that sentence, her whole face lit up.
She turned to look at me.
"Hazel, did you catch that?"
I shook my head.
"No. I don't know German."
Wendy laughed.
It was that kind of laugh I knew all too well—pure, condescending superiority.
"Right. You've only got that French certificate, and your salary is stuck at eighty grand a year. How pathetic."
I didn't say a word.
A seventy percent raise. Between the six people on the German team and Joseph himself, only seven people would be getting that money.
Nothing to do with me.
I told myself, "It's got nothing to do with me."
When the gala ended, I packed up my things to head out.
My phone buzzed, it was a text from my only friend, Chloe Sims.
"Hazel!!! You totally understood that German bit the boss just dropped, didn't you?? Seventy percent! Why didn't you raise your hand!"
Chloe works in HR. She accidentally found out I speak German last year when she caught me reading an original French novel in the breakroom.
I told her to keep it a secret, and it's been a real struggle for her.
"Cut it out. I'm not trying to get exposed."
"Are you out of your mind? Seventy percent! You're making eighty a year, after the raise, that's a hundred and thirty-six thousand! The heater in that crappy apartment of yours doesn't even work!"
I tucked my phone away.
I walked to the elevator, and Joseph was there waiting too.
Our VP, Julian Croft, was standing next to him, and the two were chatting in German.
"That was a good move. Only the German team caught it, so basically, only the core team gets the raise while everyone else thinks I'm just 'selling a dream'."
Joseph laughed.
"If you're gonna sell a dream, you gotta do it with style. Doing it in German makes me look like I've got 'international vision'."
Julian laughed along.
"A low-level translator like Hazel Levis... she's only worth eighty grand for the rest of her life."
The elevator arrived.
I stood behind them and walked in with a deadpan expression.
They kept talking in German.
"Who are we sending to the East Ridge Group meeting next week?"
"Probably Wendy. Her German is the best."
"I heard the CEO at East Ridge, Mr. Sterling, is a real nightmare. Last time they worked with Apex, he literally screamed their translator out of the conference room."
"It's fine. Wendy can handle it."
The elevator hit the lobby.
I stepped out first.
Joseph said to me from behind, "Hazel, get me the proofread draft of that French-to-English contract from last week by tomorrow."
"Sure thing, Mr. Harrison."
I didn't even look back.
Chapter 2
The next day, I dropped the draft on Joseph's desk.
It was a thirty-thousand-word contract, and I had corrected forty-seven errors in the original translation.
The original translator was Wendy.
But my name wouldn't be on that draft, it would just say, "Proofed by: Translation Dept."
Wendy had no idea I was the one cleaning up her mess.
She actually thought she was a pro.
Back at my desk, Chloe walked over with a coffee.
"Hazel, did you hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Wendy is handling the East Ridge Group project next week."
"I heard."
"Do you know who the CEO of East Ridge is?"
I looked up.
Chloe lowered her voice. "Caleb Sterling. Thirty-two, CEO of East Ridge, ranked ninety-eighth on Forbes last year. Word is he speaks five languages and has a hell of a temper. He fired Apex's entire translation team on the spot last time."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"Don't you think Wendy's gonna crash and burn?"
"Not my problem if she does."
Chloe sighed.
"Man, you really are too patient for your own good."
After she left, I opened my laptop and pulled up today's files.
It was a supplier quote in Spanish.
By right, the Spanish team should have handled it, but their guy was out sick today, so Julian just dumped it on me.
"Hazel, didn't you say you took a little Spanish as an elective in college? Just wing it."
I did tell him I "took a little".
In reality, I lived in Madrid for two years, Spanish is basically another native language to me.
I knocked it out in fifteen minutes, intentionally leaving two minor typos that didn't matter just to make it look like "college elective" level.
Then I sent it to Julian.
Julian replied with a "Not bad."
"Not bad" was plenty.
In the afternoon, Wendy walked past my desk.
She slammed a stack of papers down in front of me.
"Hazel, organize these files for me. I need them for the East Ridge project next week."
I glanced at them, it was about fifty pages of background info on East Ridge, all in French.
"This isn't really my job."
"How is it not? You're in translation, I'm your team lead. Is there a problem with me giving you an assignment?"
She just got promoted to lead last month, overseeing both the German and French teams.
"Fine."
I took the files.
Wendy walked away a few steps, then turned back.
"Oh, by the way, there's a small department meeting tomorrow to discuss the East Ridge strategy. You don't need to be there."
"I know."
"You only handle basic proofing. A big project like this is out of your league."
"I know."
She finally left.
Chloe sent a string of angry emojis on Slack.
"I heard her in the breakroom!! Who the hell does she think she is talking to you like that!!"
"I'm used to it."
"Can't you just snap back for once?"
"And then what? She's the team lead."
"If you actually showed off what you can do, she wouldn't be 'lead' for a second."
"I don't want to."
"What are you so afraid of, Hazel?"
I didn't reply.
What was I afraid of?
I didn't even know myself.
Maybe I was afraid of the spotlight, afraid of people digging up my past and giving me those pitying looks, saying, "Oh, so you're that diplomat's daughter whose parents died in the crash."
Or maybe I was just lazy.
When I got home that night, my cat, Mochi, was waiting at the door.
I picked him up, and he let out a big yawn.
"Mochi, I fixed forty-seven of Wendy's mistakes today. She hasn't a clue."
Mochi gave me a look, then jumped down to eat his kibble.
I opened the fridge, just two eggs and half a head of cabbage.
On eighty grand a year in this city, after rent, utilities, and cat food, there isn't much left at the end of the month.
I made a bowl of egg drop soup and sat by the window to eat.
My phone rang again.
A random number.
"Hello, is this Ms. Hazel Levis?"
"Speaking."
"This is Mr. Langley from Vanguard Law. Regarding the liquidation of your parents' overseas assets, we have some documents that need your signature at the office."
"I told you, I don't want any of it. Donate it all."
"Ms. Levis, there is a balance in your parents' Zurich account that—"
"I don't want it. Thanks, Mr. Langley. Don't call again."
I hung up.
Mochi hopped back onto the table and tilted his head at me.
"It's nothing important."
I turned my phone off.
Chapter 3
Monday morning, translation department meeting.
I wasn't invited, but my desk is right next to the conference room. Through the glass wall, I could hear every single word.
Wendy scribbled a list of info about East Ridge Group on the whiteboard.
"Caleb Sterling is fluent in German and French, and his assistants cover Spanish and Japanese. We're discussing a supply chain partnership in the Middle East. They'll handle the Arabic side, so we just need to nail the German and French coordination."
Julian nodded. "You sure about this?"
"Of course. I spent three years studying in Germany. A business negotiation like this is a walk in the park."
I kept my head down, proofing the files in front of me.
Wendy's German is actually decent—fine for casual conversation.
But I've seen her previous drafts.
Her business German has a fatal flaw: she relies way too much on literal translation and completely ignores the complex hierarchy of honorifics required in formal German correspondence.
In a casual chat, it's no big deal, but if the client is someone obsessed with detail...
Whatever.
None of my business.
The meeting wrapped up, and Wendy walked out.
As she passed my desk, she spotted the stack of East Ridge files.
"Finished organizing?"
"Yeah."
I handed her a twenty-page summary, categorized by project type, partnership history, and key stakeholders.
She skimmed through a couple of pages.
"It'll do."
She took it and left.
At four in the afternoon, Joseph suddenly showed up in the translation department.
He rarely makes an appearance down here.
"Wendy, East Ridge moved the meeting up. Caleb arrives tomorrow afternoon. Are you ready?"
Wendy stood up. "Moved up? I've reviewed all the materials. No problem at all."
"Good. Take someone with you tomorrow for on-site translation support."
Wendy scanned the room. "I'll take Jake. His German is okay."
"Jake is still on leave."
Wendy's brow furrowed as she scanned the room again.
Her eyes landed on me.
"Hazel, you're coming with me tomorrow."
I looked up. "Me? I only know French."
"You'll just handle the notes and serve the coffee. I'll take care of the professional stuff."
Joseph glanced at me. "Her?"
"Don't worry, Joseph. She's perfect for the grunt work."
And just like that, I was dragged along to the East Ridge Group negotiation.
To do the grunt work.
The next day at 2 PM, we arrived at the East Ridge Group headquarters.
A forty-eight-story skyscraper with a lobby paved in black marble and four receptionists in matching black uniforms.
Wendy was wearing a brand-new designer suit and four-inch heels, trying her hardest to look powerful.
I wore my company-issued button-down and carried a canvas tote.
The receptionist gave us a once-over.
"Global Trade Solutions?"
"Yes. I'm Wendy Miller, the translation lead. This is my assistant, Hazel Levis."
I didn't correct her.
The receptionist made a call. "Please wait. Mr. Sterling is still in a meeting."
We sat in the lounge for fifteen minutes.
Wendy spent that time reapplying her lipstick twice and fixing her hair three times.
"Hazel, once we're in there, just sit to the side and take notes. Don't speak, don't make a sound. You got that?"
"Got it."
"Also, use formal address when speaking to Mr. Sterling. Don't let your eyes wander. Men at his level hate unprofessionalism."
"Okay."
The elevator doors opened.
Caleb's assistant stepped out—a man in his thirties wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
"Ms. Miller? Mr. Sterling will see you now."
We took the elevator straight up to the forty-sixth floor.
The moment the conference room doors opened, I saw Caleb.
Thirty-two, around six-foot-one, in a charcoal suit, no tie, top button undone.
His expression was cold.
Not the "trying-to-look-cool" kind of cold, but a bone-chilling indifference.
He was reviewing a file, not even looking up.
"Sit."
He said exactly one word.
Wendy sat down.
I sat beside her and opened my laptop, ready to take notes.
Beside Caleb sat two others: his legal counsel and a very young-looking woman.
The woman had a translation device set up in front of her.
Five seconds of dead silence.
Then Caleb suddenly looked up and spoke.
He spoke in German.
"In your company's last proposal, three sets of tariff data were cited from 2021 standards. It is now 2024. What is the meaning of this?"
His delivery was fast, his phrasing sharp.
Wendy froze for two seconds.
She understood him, but she clearly didn't expect him to open like that.
"Mr. Sterling, that proposal was a preliminary draft—"
She answered in English.
Caleb cut her off.
Still in German.
"I asked in German. Please answer in German. I don't want to waste time with translations."
Wendy's face flushed instantly.
She switched to German: "That proposal was a draft. We will update the data—"
"Update it? Has anyone on your team studied the 2024 Middle East import policy for the EU? Amendments to clauses three and seven directly impact fifteen percent of your pricing margin. Were you aware of that?"
Wendy's mouth hung open.
She had no clue.
I knew.
Because that policy change was mentioned in the background materials, and I had specifically highlighted it in the summary.
But Wendy obviously hadn't read my summary carefully.
"That... I'll need to double-check that back at the office."
Caleb put down his pen.
"You didn't do your homework before coming here?"
"I—"
"You've used the wrong German honorific three times. I let it slide the first time. I let it slide the second time. Do you have any idea what it means to repeatedly misuse honorifics in a business setting?"
"It means you either don't respect me, or you're incompetent. Which is it?"
Wendy's face turned from red to ghostly white.
