Chapter 31
Sean moved his arm away, his eyes cold and distant as he glanced at Elsie. She froze mid-motion, her hand half extended, unnerved by his chilling gaze. His expression was so unnerving that she felt a shiver run down her spine.
“Director Chase…” Elsie hesitated, her voice faltering.
“Miss Foster—” Sean’s voice was calm, almost emotionless as he turned his attention to the elevator ahead. At that moment, the elevator doors slid shut, and for just an instant, a flicker of something more complex flashed in his eyes. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but it didn’t escape his own notice. Before Elsie could catch on, he was back to his usual icy self. “Remember what I told you.”
Myra, meanwhile, had left the Chase Group building in a daze. Her steps were unsteady, as if the weight of everything pressing on her was too much to bear. The faster she walked, the more she felt like she was being chased—by something she couldn’t outrun. Eventually, she broke into a frantic run.
She had crossed two streets when a sharp pain shot through her heels. She stumbled, finding the nearest bench, and sat down, overwhelmed by the tears she could no longer hold back.
The late summer air was stifling, the heatwave suffocating, but inside, Myra felt an icy void. Passersby cast curious glances at her, likely assuming she had just been dumped by her boyfriend. They weren’t far from the truth.
Suddenly, she took out her phone, her hands trembling as she dialed the number Logan had saved for work. The phone rang several times, and just as she was about to give up, the line clicked, and Tony’s deep voice answered.
“Who is this?”
Myra’s voice was hoarse, raw from emotion. “Didn’t you say my design was good? What did you mean earlier when you said it was crude?”
Tony paused, clearly caught off guard. He had been scanning through some documents and, when he saw her name on the caller ID, he didn’t pick up immediately. After toying with his phone for a moment, he answered, his voice unbothered, “I assumed the meaning was literal. Miss Stark, I’m sure you understand that.”
“My design is literal, then,” Myra shot back bitterly, laughing bitterly and choking back tears. “Director Hart, are you entertained by changing the meaning at your whim? I followed your instructions for editing, yet it seems you’ve completely overlooked my efforts. Is this some kind of joke to you?”
“What do you mean by that?” Tony’s frown deepened, sensing something was off with Myra’s tone.
“The meaning is literal,” she repeated his words back to him, her voice trembling with frustration. “Director Hart, you are influential. Why are you stooping so low to be petty with people like me? If the Chase Group loses this project, they’ll throw me under the bus. Isn’t that what you want?”
Myra’s mind replayed the scene where Sean had demanded her apology to Elsie. The moment Elsie’s smug expression flashed in her memory, the weight of her anger and sorrow became too much. A bus drove by, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the emotions she couldn’t contain. She didn’t care about what Tony said anymore. In a rush of fury, she hung up on him, refusing to answer any more calls.
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper with Tony,” Myra thought, but the knot in her chest remained. “I promised Sean and Elsie I’d secure the project. But how? If Tony’s words are any indication, he’s the one making a fool of me, not Elsie.”
On the other side, Tony, still holding his phone, scowled in frustration. “Did she… cry?”
He frowned, realizing that Myra’s defiance had taken a toll on her. He had intended to make her beg—he wanted to see her fight back. But now, with the situation escalating, it wasn’t going as planned. He cursed under his breath, feeling a sting of guilt.
Before he could dwell on it further, Leo knocked on the door. His expression was serious as he entered the room, speaking in hushed tones, “Director Hart, I just got word from the Chase Group. Apparently, Myra was demoted to Miss Foster’s assistant a few days ago. She wanted to attend the Hart Group meeting with Miss Foster, but was sent away at the last minute. It’s not that she had other projects as Miss Foster claimed. Also…” Leo hesitated before continuing, unsure of how much to reveal. “After you reprimanded her, Director Hart, Miss Stark was fined three months’ salary. But there’s more—Director Chase even demanded she apologize to Miss Foster and scolded her harshly.”
Tony slammed the fountain pen in his hand against the desk, the sharp noise echoing in the quiet room. Leo froze, fearing the worst.
“Get the car,” Tony ordered, his voice cold, his gaze hardening as his mind began to piece things together. Myra had been crying; that much was clear. His lips curled into a bitter smile. So, this was what had been happening.
Leo nodded quickly and left the office. Tony made another attempt to call Myra, but she didn’t pick up. His mind raced, remembering the bus stop she had mentioned.
In less than thirty minutes, a sleek silver Bentley Mulsanne pulled up near the bus stop.
Myra, too tired to care anymore, had been sitting for what felt like an eternity, her head bent between her knees. When she finally tried to stand, her body stiffened from lack of movement, and she nearly stumbled to the ground. She reached for the bench to steady herself, her limbs numb and aching.
A shadow fell over her, and when she looked up, Tony stood before her. His tall frame, draped in a custom-made Italian suit, exuded an air of control. His cold demeanor commanded attention, drawing the gaze of passersby who stopped to look at the imposing figure.
Myra felt a surge of anger and hurt. She smirked bitterly, turning on her heel to walk away from him, as far as she could.
“Are you sure you don’t want to explain yourself to me?” Tony’s voice cut through the air, calm and steady, yet it carried a hint of amusement. “I might give the Chase Group another chance, after your explanation.”
She slowed for a moment, but her anger spurred her on. Without a second glance, she walked away, her footsteps quick and angry. She couldn’t bring herself to face him.
Tony watched her retreating figure, bemused. He hadn’t expected her to react this way—so stubborn, so fierce. “The kitten has claws,” he mused with a wry smile.