Chapter 3

The online meeting was set to begin. Wesley was ten minutes late.

When the screen lit up, the family boardroom was visible behind him.

Jessica sat beside him, draped in that white cashmere scarf.

She smiled into the camera.

"Fannie, it's been so long! You look like you've lost so much weight in Paris."

I opened my files.

"Let's begin."

Wesley frowned.

"Nothing else to say?"

I looked at him.

"What would you like to hear?"

The conference room went quiet for a moment.

Wesley's expression darkened half a shade.

Jessica immediately smoothed things over.

"Wesley, don't be like that. Fannie's still mad at me."

She pulled the scarf a little higher, her voice pitched just right—soft, disarming.

"Fannie, what happened that night was really my fault. But the past can't be changed. Don't blame Wesley—he was in a difficult position back then too."

I capped my pen.

"Ms. Jessica, today we're discussing design. Not gynecological history."

Someone on the other end ducked their head and coughed.

Wesley's gaze turned icy.

"Fannie, watch your language."

I looked up.

"She can announce it publicly at my anniversary dinner, but I can't ask her to be quiet in a meeting?"

Jessica's eyes immediately went red.

"That's not what I meant. I just thought since the theme is old love reunited, maybe my experiences could help with the design."

Wesley pushed a cup of warm water toward her hand.

"Don't cry."

Then he looked at me.

"Jessica is the inspiration guest for this project. You'll take her input."

I pulled up the design file.

"Fine."

I shared my draft on screen.

"I'd like to propose changing the theme to Broken Ring. Old love isn't about reunion—it's about misalignment. The band splits in the center, bridged by cold white gold. Visually, the gap remains."

The brand's marketing director perked up.

"That's a sophisticated concept."

But Jessica let out a soft laugh.

"Wouldn't a gap be a bit unlucky, though? Didn't Wesley say he wanted this collection to feel bittersweet but complete?"

Wesley looked at the screen, his tone flat.

"Make it a full circle."

I said.

"A full circle has no distinction."

"The client wants sales, not your feelings."

He tapped the table.

"Fannie, you haven't been stable lately. Don't be stubborn."

I looked at his hand.

That hand used to hold mine while we sketched ring designs together.

He'd said:

"Your work has thorns and light. That's what I love most about it."

Now he was telling me to pull out the thorns. To accommodate Jessica's idea of wholeness.

My professor spoke up.

"Mr. Wesley, Fannie's concept aligns more closely with international aesthetics."

Wesley's expression didn't change.

"Marketing is my responsibility. I say change it."

Jessica said softly.

"Maybe just drop it. She doesn't like me. She won't accept anything I suggest."

Wesley turned to me.

"Apologize to Jessica."

I thought I'd misheard.

"What?"

"She was only offering a suggestion. You embarrassed her in front of everyone."

I laughed.

"Wesley, you're asking me to apologize to her in a business meeting?"

"This is a professional setting."

"And?"

He fixed his eyes on me, every word deliberate.

"So don't make me question whether you have any professional conduct at all."

No one in the room spoke.

Jessica kept her eyes lowered, but the corner of her mouth curved just slightly upward.

I closed the screen-share.

"Ms. Jessica, I'm sorry."

Wesley's gaze relaxed a fraction.

I continued.

"I'm sorry I underestimated your ability to package your personal life as professional input."

Jessica went pale.

Wesley shot to his feet.

"Fannie!"

I pulled out my earpiece.

"Meeting's adjourned. I'll submit my revision notes in writing."

Before I disconnected, I heard Wesley's voice, tight with fury.

"You'd better think about the consequences."

The screen went black.

My professor was quiet for a moment, then said:

"Has he always spoken to you like that?"

I looked at my hands.

My fingertips were ice cold.

"No."

He used to introduce me to everyone.

He'd say:

"This is Fannie. The most important person in my life—and the best designer I know."

At some point, the most important person had become a contractor who could be reprimanded in public.

My phone screen lit up.

A message from Wesley.

"Give Jessica a formal apology by tonight. Otherwise the lead designer position gets reassigned."

I stared at it for a long time. Then replied.

"Do what you want."

Five minutes later, an email was CC'd to my inbox.

Lead designer: Jessica.

Special consultant: Fannie.