Chapter 11
434words
Sylvia packed her laptop and walked out without acknowledging the admiring and bewildered glances following her.
"Sylvia!" Garrett rushed after her, calling out in the hallway.
Sylvia stopped and turned, maintaining her unruffled composure: "Mr. Grayson, did you need something else?"
Garrett stared at her, a thousand words stuck in his throat. Thank you? Too trivial. Apologize? Too hollow. Ask her to stay? What right did he have?
"That technology solution… when did you prepare it?" he asked hoarsely.
"During my employment, in my spare time," Sylvia replied indifferently. "Call it professional habit—I always prepare contingencies. Seems it proved useful."
In her spare time…
Garrett's heart ached anew. How much had she silently contributed to him, to this company?
"Why help the company?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.
Sylvia looked at him, a slight smile appearing—part mockery, part resignation.
"Mr. Grayson, I'm not helping the company, and certainly not helping you," she stated clearly. "I'm doing this for myself. This project grew from nothing with my dedication—it's like my child. I won't let it fail for foolish reasons. That's all."
She paused, noting his suddenly pale face, and added: "Besides, proving my value through competence rather than compliance feels satisfying. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Grayson."
With that, she gave a slight nod, turned, and walked away, her departing figure resolute.
Garrett stood frozen, as if turned to stone. Her words were like salt ground into his already raw and bleeding heart.
Proving her worth… thanking him for the opportunity…
Indeed, on the eve of her departure, she'd proven her worth to everyone in the most spectacular fashion. And Garrett was merely the pathetic backdrop against which she'd shone.
That night, Garrett received a message from Lawrence Langford—a simple photo of an open employment contract with extraordinarily generous terms for the position of Chief Operating Officer at ClearCore Technologies. The recipient name clearly read "Sylvia Sterling."
The postscript contained one sentence: [Mr. Grayson, it seems we're competitors again. This time, for talent.]
Garrett stared at the image, nearly crushing his phone.
Lawrence Langford! He'd made his move! With such brazen confidence!
COO… a true executive position where her talents could flourish openly.
Compared to what he'd offered—the hidden roles of "chief secretary" and "secret wife"—the difference was astronomical.
Panic—raw, unprecedented panic—coiled around his heart like a venomous snake.
He couldn't wait any longer! He had to act! Before it was too late!
