Chapter 222

The HR manager exhaled in relief. Finally, a candidate had caught Mr. Roland's attention.

She flipped through Penny Anderson's file, her frown deepening. The girl had average qualifications and unremarkable looks—completely ordinary among the applicants.

Adrian Roland's hiring criteria remained an enigma.

"One more thing." Adrian turned abruptly at the conference room door. "Everyone works this weekend to finish the proposal."

The HR manager paled. "But Mr. Roland, this weekend is your—"

"Five times overtime pay."

"It's not about the money. You're getting married this Saturday."

Adrian's expression didn't change. "A formality. One hour maximum. I want the proposal on my desk before afternoon work resumes."

After he left, Penny whispered, "Does overtime happen often here?"

The manager gave a wry smile. "Our CEO is a workaholic. Last year's company speech? 'Don't sleep too much while alive—you'll have eternity to sleep after death.'"

Penny's eyes widened. "That's a heart attack waiting to happen."

"But the salary compensates." The manager showed five fingers. "$100K monthly—highest in Houston for this position."

Penny swallowed. Regular executive assistants earned $30-50K. The offer was undeniably tempting.

"Let's process your onboarding." The manager paused. "Company rules: No floral dresses. CEO's office lights stay on 24/7. Mr. Roland only drinks lukewarm water."

"Alcohol shielding too?" Penny hesitated.

The manager patted her shoulder. "$100K a month. Your first task this afternoon—pick up Ms. Evans for her wedding dress fitting."

Penny blinked. "The groom isn't going?"

"Just a business alliance marriage." The manager shrugged. "Ms. Wendy's decent. Keep her company."

At 2 PM, Penny drove Adrian's luxury car to Houston Grand Hotel.

Room 0829. She pressed the doorbell, repeating the number silently.

A boy of about seven answered. "Who are you looking for, ma'am?"

"Sweetie, does Ms. Evans live here?"

The child eyed her suspiciously. "My mom lives here."

Penny froze. A graceful woman in a white dress emerged—porcelain skin, willow-leaf eyebrows.

"Ms. Evans?" Penny ventured. "I'm Mr. Roland's assistant, here for your dress appointment."

The woman frowned slightly. "Wrong room. This is 0826."

Penny then noticed the fallen numeral—the 6 had flipped to resemble a 9. She apologized profusely and left.

A shrill voice echoed from down the hall. "What's taking so long?"

The real Wendy Evans stood there—heavy makeup, haughty demeanor. "New hire? Can't even read numbers?"

Penny opened her mouth to explain.

Wendy waved impatiently. "A female driver? Send a man instead!"