The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me-Chapter 239: A Door With My Name On It Advertisement

The celebration didn't last long—not in the loud, chaotic sense. After the initial cheering, hugging, disbelief, clapping, and Derrick nearly injuring his wrist while fist-pumping the air, the entire office gradually drifted back to work.

But the air had shifted.

Emails sounded brighter.

Keyboard taps had rhythm.

Someone in Purchasing put low jazz on the speaker in the corner, and nobody complained.

It wasn't productivity.

It was victory with a to-do list.

I was updating a projection sheet when Hale's office door swung open for the second time this morning. Conversations dipped around us the moment he stepped out—habit, respect, mild fear, all three.

"Tanaka," Hale said. "With me."

My head snapped up. "Yes, sir."

Derrick mouthed Uh oh dramatically. I ignored him and followed Hale.

We crossed the floor in silence, stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed with a soft mechanical sigh. Hale pressed a button without looking at me.

Top floor.

I did look at him.

He didn't look back.

The elevator glided upward. I kept my hands loosely in my pockets, trying not to look like someone who'd never been to the top floor before—even though I absolutely hadn't. The highest part of the building I ever had reason to visit was Finance on twenty-two. Everything above that belonged to senior executives, directors, and the kind of offices that used furniture more expensive than my TV.

When the elevator opened, the atmosphere shifted again—quieter, colder, polished. The carpet was thicker. The ceiling lights were softer. The art on the wall looked like it belonged in a museum I could not afford entry to.

Still, I said nothing.

Hale started walking, so I followed.

"You did good work," he said abruptly, mid-stride. "On Meridian."

I blinked. "Thank you, sir."

"No—really good work." He spared me a glance. "Your financial breakdown carried the weight of the entire pitch. You and Delgado—solid job. Walcott said you adapted projections faster than he's ever seen."

My steps hitched, barely. "I appreciate that."

"You deserve this," he added.

I didn't know what this was, but my stomach tightened anyway.

We stopped outside a large office with a frosted glass door. A neat plaque read:

Samuel Whitford

Chief Financial Officer

My brain stalled.

The CFO?

Hale knocked once and opened the door.

] "Come in."

The voice inside was deep, steady, and unmistakably used to authority.

Hale walked in first. I followed, my pulse tapping hard against my ribs.

The man behind the desk—Whitford—looked exactly like someone who shouldn't know I existed. Mid-50s, crisp suit, a chest of framed certifications behind him. His reading glasses hung from a fine chain, and the way he closed the folder in front of him made it clear he had already formed an opinion about something.

"Mr. Tanaka," he said, rising slightly from his chair. "Good to finally meet you."

Finally?

I managed a respectful nod. "Thank you for having me, sir."

He gestured. "Sit."

I did. Hale sat beside me.

Whitford leaned back, studying me with the kind of calm scrutiny that could make a person confess to crimes they hadn't committed.

"I've been hearing your name for a while," Whitford began. "Hale has been… persistent."

My eyes flicked to Hale. He didn't react, but he wasn't denying it.

"Your reports," Whitford continued, "are clean. Your financial modeling is accurate. Your presentation structure is clear. And your projections for the Meridian Development Initiative were—according to the team—exceptional."

I swallowed. "I try to do my best work, sir."

"And you do." Whitford clasped his hands. "More importantly, you do it without noise. I like that."

I didn't know how to answer that, so I didn't.

Whitford leaned forward slightly. "We're restructuring for Meridian. The project will run through multiple departments, but the financial oversight needs strong, precise leadership." He paused long enough for the silence to gain weight. "We need someone who can manage financial strategy, ensure compliance, and handle the reporting cycle with the government's development council."

My pulse quickened.

Hale didn't move, didn't even blink.

Whitford continued, "Effective immediately, we'd like to appoint you as Finance Manager of the Urban Projects Division."

Everything in me went still.

Urban Projects Division.

Finance Manager.

My own office.

My own department.

My own responsibility.

I forced myself to breathe. "Sir… I—thank you. I don't know what to say."

"'Yes' is a good start," Whitford said dryly. "But if you'd like a moment to process, take it."

I shook my head slightly. "No, sir. I… I accept. Thank you. Truly."

Whitford nodded once, approving. "Good. You'll report directly to me for Meridian-related matters and coordinate with Hale for inter-division requirements. HR will finalize paperwork by end of day, and your office is being prepped now."

Office.

New title.

I kept my spine straight, but my heart was doing something between sprinting and free-falling.

Whitford rose. Hale and I followed.

"Well done, Mr. Tanaka," he said, offering a firm handshake. "We expect a lot from this division in the next five years. I trust you'll rise to meet it."

"I won't let you down, sir."

"I hope not." His expression softened—barely. "Congratulations."

Hale placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the door.

We stepped back into the hallway, the quiet executive floor swallowing the sound behind us as the office door clicked shut.

I let out a slow breath.

Hale glanced at me sideways. "You did good."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"No—really," Hale insisted. "This was earned. You should be proud."

I nodded, still processing. "I… honestly don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," he replied. "Just do the job. And enjoy the office—because if the project goes well, you'll barely see your home."

I huffed a short laugh. "Great. Just what Val wants to hear."

"Your wife will adapt," Hale said with a shrug. "She seems... resilient."

She was. More than anyone knew.

The elevator doors opened. We stepped inside, heading back to the familiar floors, the familiar faces, the familiar world I had just stepped one rung above.

As we descended, I pressed my palm lightly against my tie, grounding myself.

I'd done it.

A little over five years ago, I walked into this company as an entry-level financial analyst—wide-eyed, unsure, drowning in spreadsheets and hoping no one noticed how terrified I was.

And now…

Kai Tanaka, Finance Manager of the Urban Projects Division, Gray & Milton.

It almost didn't feel real.

But it was.

And I couldn't wait to tell Val.

---

To be continued...