She wasn’t technically a licensed securities professional yet, so some rules could be bent for her. And so, Ivy began her internship. Even with the cachet of a Neo Haven University School of Finance degree, her mere bachelor’s–stacked up against the postgrads and the colleagues fresh from top schools abroad–didn’t count for much. Given her previous entanglement with Emma and the rumors swirling around her family and marital status, most people assumed she’d only landed a spot at Quantum Hedge Securities thanks to her husband’s powerful connections. And then there was her looks–startlingly beautiful, the sort that immediately brought to mind the word “trophy.”
Edmond personally walked her around, showing her the ropes before leading her to her desk. “The proprietary trading division lines up best with your background,” he explained. “I placed you here because it’s where you’ll have the most impact. This is your desk. Someone will come by to help with the paperwork later. If you need anything, talk to Manager Zoe, or you can come to me directly.”
Manager Zoe, as Edmond introduced her, was a forty-year-old powerhouse–the kind of woman who radiated competence and resolve. Unmarried, childless, all-in on her career. She stood next to Edmond and, after his introduction, said briskly, “If you need anything, come to me. There’s no need to trouble Mr. Shaw with every little thing.” Ivy took one look at Manager Zoe and instantly sensed her disapproval. Still, she only nodded politely. “Of course, Manager Zoe.” Just then, Edmond’s phone buzzed. He answered as he motioned everyone back to their work, turning and leaving the department.
Ivy sat down at her station, her heart pounding with excitement. She was finally stepping into the world she loved–even if it was only as an intern, she was determined to give it her all. She didn’t want to be just another office drone, nor did she dream of being a run-of-the-mill trader.
She wanted to be capital, to wield real influence over the market, to build her own business empire with her own two hands. The thought filled her with resolve. But the colleagues behind her clearly didn’t share her optimism.
“She’s gorgeous, married into money–why bother working? Why not just be a lady of leisure?”
“You don’t get it. These rich wives don’t want to be just arm candy. They all want to prove themselves–look at, what’s her name, that socialite everyone talks about?”
“Heh. I just don’t get it. We’re short-handed and finally got someone new, and it’s a nepotism hire. Might as well use her for decoration.”
Ivy caught their whispers and just smiled faintly. Jealousy was human nature. From a young age, she’d learned that beauty brought not only praise and attention, but also plenty of gossip and malice. Some liked her for her brains and looks; others despised her for exactly the same reasons, even envied her. Was that her fault? No. Had she changed? Not at all. The same things drew both admiration and resentment–the only difference was circumstance. For Ivy, the only thing that ever mattered was knowing what she wanted, and going after it. She wasn’t about to waste time second-guessing herself or get thrown off course by other people’s opinions.
At lunch, Ivy headed to the break room for some water and overheard two colleagues debating whether to hold or sell a tech stock. Coincidentally, she’d just sold that very stock a few days earlier before starting at Quantum Hedge Securities. She’d done her homework; the price had already peaked.
Unable to resist, she offered, “Honestly, I’d sell all of it. It’s already past its high.”
The two colleagues turned to her, faces twisted with disdain. “What would you know? You act like you own the stock market.”
Ivy just smiled and didn’t bother explaining.
That afternoon, when trading resumed, the stock soared–her colleagues celebrated, convinced they’d made the right call. But with just thirty minutes left in the trading day, the price plummeted. Chaos erupted in the department. Ivy gave another quick warning to sell, but some colleagues dismissed her, insisting it was just a temporary dip and the perfect time to buy more. Predictably, the price kept crashing, wiping out anyone who tried to “buy the dip.”
After Manager Zoe finished chewing out her team, she shot Ivy a look–equal parts surprise and suspicion–before leaving the room. It wasn’t until the end of the day that Zoe pulled Ivy aside and got straight to the point. “Do you have some kind of inside information? I heard your husband’s family–aren’t they the famous Ludwigs?”
Ivy nearly laughed, but kept her composure. “If I’m going to work in this field, I have to do my homework. If you insist on seeing people through a lens of prejudice, you’re bound to make more mistakes down the line.”
Zoe was left speechless, her face flushing with embarrassment and anger. Just then, Ivy’s phone buzzed–Jamison was calling. He’d messaged her at noon, promising to pick her up after work. Judging by the timing, he was already close.
“Manager Zoe, is there anything else you need? If not, I’ll be heading out,” Ivy asked politely.
Zoe, still fuming but out of options, dismissed her with a curt nod.
Outside, at the edge of the plaza, Jamison pulled up in his ostentatious, multi-million dollar Koenigsegg. As Ivy stepped out of the building and spotted the flashy car, she frowned, tempted to turn around and walk the other way. But Jamison had already rolled down the window, his dark eyes locking onto hers, as if daring her: Just try and run.