At Sinclair Design, a strange sense of anticipation hung over the office.
Crescent was supposed to respond before 3:00 p.m.
Claire had put her entire career on the line, and most of the department was waiting to watch her fail.
Monica sat at her desk with a coffee in hand and one leg crossed over the other. She kept her voice low, but the mockery was impossible to miss.
"Wow. Still hanging on? You’re actually waiting for Crescent to answer? Your outdated design doesn’t stand a chance. You should spend the time cleaning out your office so it’ll be easier when you leave."
Whispers spread through the department.
Claire ignored Monica. Then her phone screen lit up.
A new message appeared.
Miles.
Claire’s heartbeat quickened. The old soul had actually texted her first.
[Shirt. Progress?]
Short, clipped, all business.
Still, the fact that Miles had asked first was enough to make Claire smile.
She glanced at the finished shirt hanging behind the glass partition and started to type a reply. Then Wendy shot to her feet with a scream.
"It passed! Claire, we passed!"
Wendy’s voice cracked with excitement, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Claire hurried to the computer. Crescent’s official email was open on the screen.
[The design is nearly perfect. We have a few minor details we’d like adjusted. Please reply so we can continue the discussion.]
Claire stared at the message. The tension she had been carrying for three days finally broke, and she let out a long breath.
"No. No way. You’re lying!" Monica’s hand shook so badly that coffee splashed all over her clothes.
She rushed to the computer. "You faked this email. You had to!"
Wendy snorted. "Open your eyes, Monica. The entire email chain is right there, including all twenty-five times they rejected your team. You think we faked all of that too?"
At the door to her private office, Yvonne’s calm smile froze. Her hand tightened until her nails dug into her palm.
She quickly fixed her expression and stepped outside with a polished smile, though her eyes stayed cold.
"Congratulations, Claire. I knew you could do it. Clearly this department has more talent than I realized. As the new director, I still have a lot to learn."
Claire didn’t answer. She turned to Monica.
"You lost. Apologize to Wendy now, then resign and leave Sinclair Group."
Monica’s face went from red to white. Her teeth clenched. "Ms. Warren, my entire team couldn’t do this. How could Claire possibly get approved by herself in three days? She had to use some dirty trick to get someone at Crescent to approve her design."
Claire held up her phone. "Monica, I recorded what you just said. Let’s go to Crescent together and ask them which manager I’m supposedly sleeping with."
Monica panicked. She had thrown out the accusation without thinking. There was no way she dared say it to Crescent’s face. She looked desperately at Yvonne for help.
Yvonne frowned, impatience flashing in her eyes.
Monica was an idiot, but she was still useful. Yvonne couldn’t let her go that easily.
Yvonne softened her tone. "Claire, Monica absolutely owes Wendy an apology. But she’s been with this department for years. She made the bet in the heat of the moment. There’s no need to end her career over it. Let’s forget about the resignation."
Claire cut her off without giving her an inch.
"If I had lost today, would she have let me walk away? We made the bet in front of the entire department. Rules matter at work too. Ms. Warren, you’re the department head. You should understand that better than anyone."
Yvonne’s expression turned even colder.
The office door opened, and Jacob walked in.
Yvonne immediately moved toward him like she had found backup. Her voice dropped, carrying just enough hurt. "Jacob, about that bet from a few days ago..."
Jacob gave Claire a cold, dismissive look.
He was about to put her in her place. Then he noticed the unusual shirt hanging behind her.
There was only one. It didn’t look like a sample for a collection.
And it looked almost exactly his size.
The darkness in Jacob’s face eased. The corner of his mouth lifted.
Claire could say whatever she wanted, but she still couldn’t let him go. She had made the shirt for him. Clearly she was planning to use it as a peace offering.
A wave of satisfaction went through Jacob.
He cleared his throat and looked at Yvonne. "Enough. Work isn’t a game. If you make a bet, you accept the result. Monica, your team failed its own assignment, and then you attacked a coworker for succeeding. Sinclair Design doesn’t need an employee like that."
Yvonne’s defense of Monica died in her throat. Her eyes slowly turned cold.
Monica went pale and started shaking. "Mr. Sinclair, I know I was wrong. Please. Give me one more chance."
Her knees nearly gave out as she turned to Claire and Wendy. "Ms. Kendall, Wendy, I’m sorry. Please put in a word for me."
Claire didn’t move.
Monica wasn’t sorry. She was scared.
Monica looked to Yvonne one last time, but Yvonne said nothing.
Jacob lost patience. He had his assistant call security, and Monica was escorted out.
The design department went so quiet that no one seemed willing to breathe.
Yvonne swallowed her anger and put on a gracious expression for Jacob. "Claire, Moonstone Studio can continue operating. You’ll still need to handle the Crescent account, though. Please work directly with the client on the revisions."
Claire nodded and glanced at Jacob.
That was strange. He had actually taken her side.
She gathered her materials and went back to her office.
Jacob gave a quiet scoff, amused. ’My little bird can pretend she doesn’t care all she wants. She still can’t stop thinking about me.’
***
In the internal medicine conference room at Aethel General Hospital, a regular staff meeting was underway. Richard Linden, the hospital director, was still speaking at the front.
"We have an excellent group of young physicians here, and their value can’t be underestimated. Dr. Miles Warren, for example, recently returned from working abroad..."
Miles sat below the stage, staring down at his phone with a frown.
His mood sank a little more by the minute.
Two hours. Still no reply.
’So she’s ditching me again? I fell for the same trap twice, and both times I walked right into it.’
Jonathan nudged him and whispered, "Miles, where’d you go? Dr. Linden is talking to you."
Miles snapped back to the room, glanced toward the front, and gave a short nod.
Richard gave an awkward little laugh.
Jonathan stared at Miles. ’Something is wrong. Very wrong.’
Then Miles’s phone buzzed.
He opened the message almost instantly.
[Sorry, Dr. Warren. Work has been crazy these past three days. Your shirt is finished. Are you busy right now? I can bring it over.]
Miles’s expression softened the moment he read it.
After a pause, he typed back a single word. [Okay.]
Jonathan leaned over to peek, but Miles moved the screen before he could see anything.
That only made him more suspicious.
"Miles, since when do you have things on your phone you don’t want us to see? Don’t tell me you’re secretly seeing someone."