Chapter 3

I returned to my desk and began organizing the project materials.

Every drawing, every version of the proposal, every meeting minute had been typed by me, word by word.

Alex had made countless comments on them.

Red annotations covered the pages.

Some sections had been revised again and again.

He once told me that if this project succeeded, it would become the best work of my career.

When he said it, he had been holding me from behind, his voice low, gentle, and pleased.

At the time, I thought he was proud of me.

Now he had handed everything I had built to someone else with his own hands.

I stared at the screen for a long time, blinking, but the tears would not stop.

When the workday ended, I was about to leave when Sophia stopped by my desk.

"Clara, the welcome drinks tonight. Will you do me the honor?"

I smiled and was about to make an excuse, but she spoke first.

"Do you have a problem with me, or are you afraid to come?"

A provocation?

I looked up at her, stood, and smiled.

"Of course. I'd be rude to refuse."

The drinks were held at a private club near the office.

The private room was large, with a long table that could seat more than twenty people.

Alex was actually there.

In the past, he never attended staff gatherings like this.

I did not look his way again. I chose the corner farthest from him and lowered my head to eat.

During dinner, a vice president stood with his glass and raised it toward Sophia.

"I hear you're the youngest daughter of the Whitman family. Why come here instead of going to the family foundation?"

"I also heard you and Alex grew up together, and there are rumors that you're getting engaged. That wouldn't be true, would it?"

Sophia smiled with her lips pressed together and glanced shyly at Alex.

"You're very well informed."

"There is indeed such a plan, but... it still depends on what Alex wants."

The air went subtly quiet for a moment.

Sitting in the corner, I dropped my fork onto the table.

My vision blurred for no reason, and I forced it back quickly.

I picked up the glass in front of me and took a hard swallow.

The burn tightened my throat.

After that one mouthful, the dull ache in my chest really did seem to fade a little.

I poured myself another glass and drank it down.

So alcohol was actually a wonderful thing.

"Clara."

Alex's voice suddenly sounded from across most of the table, low but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Drinking like that, are you planning to get drunk later and steal the spotlight from the guest of honor?"

I looked up and met those cool eyes.

He sat at the head of the table, turning his glass in his hand.

Others might not have been able to read his mood.

But I could tell at a glance.

He was angry.

The colleagues around us fell silent, their gazes moving between him and me.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Don't worry. I hold my liquor well."

"Surely you can afford these few drinks?"

His gaze darkened, and his voice cooled too.

"Have you finished organizing the project materials?"

"I'll be working late tonight. Send me a copy."

A dismissal.

Anyone could hear it.

Everyone at the table was so embarrassed they barely dared to breathe.

I set down my glass, picked up my bag, and stood.

"Of course," I said, each word clear. "I'll get out of here and go back to work right now."

When I turned and walked out of the private room, I stubbornly kept my back straight.

The hallway was long, leading to the club's entrance.

I walked step by step, pushed open the door, and the night wind rushed into my face.

I lifted a hand to touch my cheek.

At some point, tears had covered my face.

A familiar black car glided soundlessly over and stopped in front of me.

Alex's driver got out and opened the rear door.

He was the only person who knew about our disgraceful relationship.

"Clara, Alex asked me to take you to his apartment."

He handed me a box of hangover medicine.

I looked at the box, and my face suddenly burned.

Only belatedly did shame catch up with me.

That bastard.

He actually still wanted me to go spend the night with him.

I slammed the car door shut.

"Tell him to go to hell."