Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 45

Madam Eloise

Lydia POV

Two weeks after the crisis in room three and my promotion, I was reheating coffee I had forgotten to drink when Clara walked into the office kitchen and said, with visible annoyance,

“Marianne wants you in the conference room.”

I looked up from the microwave.

“Me?”

She gave me a tight smile.

“No, Lydia. The other exhausted woman with baby formula on her blouse.”

I ignored that.

Mostly because Ava had vomited on me at six that morning and I had, in fact, missed a spot.

I set the coffee down and wiped my hands on my skirt before heading toward the conference room, mind racing through every possible disaster.

Had I made a mistake on the client brief?

Did the celebrity crisis backfire?

Was I about to get fired in front of everyone?

As I reached the door, Marianne stepped out.

Her expression was unreadable.

“She asked specifically for you.”

My stomach dropped.

“Who?”

Marianne opened the door wider.

“Go in.”

I walked inside.

And stopped.

Because seated at the far end of the conference table was the most intimidating woman I had ever seen in real life.

Older.

Elegant.

Dressed in cream and diamonds and the kind of quiet wealth that made the room itself seem underturnished.

She looked like she had opinions about inheritance law.

Her silver hair was pinned perfectly.

Her lipstick was immaculate.

Her eyes were sharp enough to skin a person.

1/5 .

+20 Bonus

She looked me over once.

Slowly.

Then said,

“You’re younger than I expected.”

I blinked. 1

“Sorry?”

She gestured to the seat opposite her.

“Sit down, Miss…?”

“Lydia.”

I sat.

Trying not to fidget.

Trying not to think about the fact that Eli and Ava were currently under my desk in the main office in their carrier bassinets because daycare still cost more than my self respect.

The woman folded her hands neatly.

“My name is Madam Eloise Laurent.”

That meant nothing to me.

Which, judging by her expression, happened rarely.

She continued anyway.

“I read the press breakdown of the Rennick scandal.”

My spine straightened.

“The fraud accusation?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“The counter–narrative was clever. Very clever. Humanized the client without overdefending him. Shifted public sympathy toward procedural injustice instead of emotional outrage.”

She tilted her head.

“That strategy was yours.”

It was not a question.

I swallowed.

“Yes.”

She studied me.

Then:

“How long have you been in communications?”

210

+20 Bonus

“Just under a year professionally.”

One brow rose.

“And before that?”

“Freelance strategy work. Brand positioning. Some crisis management. Informal mostly.”

She was still staring.

“Who trained you?”

“No one.”

That made her pause.

Interesting.

Then she asked the question that changed everything.

“Why are you here?”

I frowned.

“At this firm?”

“No.” Her gaze sharpened. “Why are you in a junior support role earning pennies when your strategic instincts are clearly senior level?”

The answer lodged in my throat before I could soften it. 1

“Because life happened.”

Something flickered in her face.

Not pity.

Recognition.

She leaned back.

“And your children?”

I blinked. 1

“My-?”

She nodded toward the office outside.

I froze.

Then heard it.

Perfect timing.

す

Eli.

Crying.

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I cleared my throat.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because childcare costs more than half my salary.” 1

Not cruelly.

I stared.

“I own Laurent Advisory.”

Everyone knew the name.

I actually sat up straighter.

Madam Eloise continued.

“I came here expecting to poach a senior strategist.”

Her eyes moved over me again.

“Instead I found a sleep deprived woman with vomit on her shirt and children under her desk who solved in seventy two hours what seasoned consultants could not.”

My throat tightened

She reached into her bag.

Placed a business card on the table.

Then slid it toward me.

“Come work for me.”

I stared at it.

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Then at her.

She spoke like she was discussing weather.