Chapter 119
Chapter 119
News of the White Group's partnership with Vogue Vortex spread like wildfire. The revelation that Cordelia was the lead designer caused an even bigger stir.
There had been far too many trending topics about Cordelia lately. Now, with the White Group and Vogue Vortex dragged into the mix, the buzz kept climbing.
No one seemed to notice another headline buried in the trending list: the White Group's design department had conducted mass layoffs, sparking speculation that AI was disrupting the design industry.
Inside the Vogue Vortex design department, the atmosphere was unusually light.
Everyone was thrilled for Cordelia. Colleagues huddled together planning an evening celebration. Cordelia tried to decline three times, but Avery insisted, Griffin backed the idea, and a private dining room had already been booked. There was no getting out of it.
Still, Cordelia didn't feel this warranted a celebration. Better to wait until the project wrapped up successfully. Then they could celebrate.
"What's going on with the White Group? They just confirmed the partnership with us and now their own design department is laying people off? I don't buy the AI angle for a second. If the White Group is using AI to design products, the entire global design industry is already toast."
A colleague had spotted the headline and had been scrolling through social media for over an hour.
"Don't be so sure. AI is efficient. The bigger the company, the more likely they'll adopt it first. Today it's the White Group's designers getting cut. Tomorrow it could be us."
"Stop, stop, stop! Bite your tongue! I don't want to lose my job! This is literally the only skill I've spent my whole life learning. If I can't even stay at Vogue Vortex, how am I supposed to survive?"
Cordelia hadn't been checking the trending topics and wouldn't have noticed the headline at all if her colleagues hadn't brought it up. She glanced at it.
Mass layoffs—at the White Group, no less. Maurice couldn't possibly be unaware of the consequences.
AI replacing designers? Maurice had chosen to partner with Vogue Vortex. He'd never lay people off for that reason.
More likely, the White Group's design department had internal problems, and Maurice had uncovered them.
Layoffs were actually the more dignified solution.
Right on cue, a message from Maurice arrived.
[Ms. Sinclair, I've finished investigating the matter of your jewelry designs. The design department was indeed engaged in unauthorized outsourcing—farming out internal work to external parties without my knowledge, with multiple layers of subcontracting.]
[The compensation you were owed will be paid at the original rate to Vogue Vortex. Mr. Mitchell will deposit it to your payroll account.]
The messages came out of nowhere. Cordelia stared at them for a long time without replying.
She'd never imagined that designs she'd done years ago could still earn her back pay.
This wasn't even Maurice's fault.
Cordelia was carefully composing a polite refusal when the next second, a deposit notification pinged on her phone.
Twenty times her original fee.
The rejection she'd prepared evaporated. She had no idea how to respond.
She'd been cheated out of that much money?
Her very first attempt at jewelry design—and she'd been taken advantage of the entire time?
[Thank you. I appreciate the trouble.]
She'd keep it.
After a moment's thought, Cordelia typed another message: [Do you have any free time soon? I'd love to chat with you again.]
No reply came.
He was probably busy.
"Cordelia! Put the work down already—it's almost quitting time. Let's go!"
A colleague patted her shoulder, eyes drifting instinctively toward her computer screen.
Cordelia reflexively closed the chat window, then caught herself. What was she being so jumpy about?
She glanced at the clock in the corner. Only a few minutes until the end of the day.
They called it a celebration, but she really couldn't muster the enthusiasm.
She sent Liliana a message anyway.
They'd worked in the same department, after all. Whatever Liliana's reasons for joining had been, inviting her to a team celebration was perfectly fine.
---
Liliana had already had her bandages removed, but the wound on her forehead was still glaringly obvious.
It hadn't fully healed, so makeup was out of the question—she couldn't even use foundation to cover the scar. How was she supposed to go out in public?
When Cordelia's message came through, Liliana wanted to cry.
Such an important occasion, and she couldn't even show up!
But something in the message nagged at her.
[Liliana, the design department is having a celebration tonight. I know you've already left the company, but I'd still like you to come.]
It seemed like a perfectly normal sentence. But something felt off.
Left the company? When had she left? How did she not know about this?
This was definitely from Cordelia herself, right?
Wait—did Cordelia not know she was injured? Otherwise, why would she be inviting her out?
Possibilities raced through Liliana's mind.
If it were only about herself, it wouldn't matter. But she knew—this entire week, Cordelia hadn't contacted Ellington either.
Not once.
Liliana stood before the mirror and examined the scar on her forehead. Her bangs could barely cover it.
Today's treatment was done. Sneaking out of the hospital tonight shouldn't be a problem.
As for Ellington—Liliana changed clothes and went to the room next door. He sat on the edge of his bed in silence, radiating a bone-deep chill without saying a word.
Since being hospitalized, the wall he kept around himself seemed to have grown even thicker.
"Ellington… has Cordelia messaged you?"
Her voice shrank with each word. The moment the question left her lips, his expression darkened visibly.
So that was a no.
"What did she say to you?"
Thank God Sloane and Flynn weren't here, or they'd have a field day with this.
Liliana swallowed hard. "Nothing much. She invited me to a department celebration. But she said I'd resigned—I never submitted a resignation."
Only then did Ellington lift his gaze, his voice rough. "Resigned?"
He was the one who'd gotten her placed there. If she'd actually resigned, Griffin would have told him.
Unless Griffin had lied.
Griffin definitely knew about his injury flaring up. When Ellington had reached out, he'd even dropped hints, fishing for information.
But Griffin had responded with practiced nonchalance.
"Cordelia knows you're hurt and in the hospital."
"So what? She knows. What do you expect her to do? You're divorced. You think she's going to rush to your bedside because you got hurt? Don't forget—your wedding to Sloane has already been announced. You want Cordelia to visit you? What does that make her?"
Ellington didn't even know what he was angry about.
Hearing those words from Griffin's mouth made his blood boil.
So she knew. Fine—not visiting, he could understand. But why hadn't she even called?
"I have no idea what happened with the resignation thing. I'll ask tonight. But hurry up and think—is there anything you need me to do for you? Anything you want me to bring her?" Liliana threw her hands up. "I don't know what's going on in that head of yours. Things between you two were finally getting better. You should be pressing the advantage!"
Ellington lay down and rolled over, his back to her.
"Just go. She and I have nothing to say to each other right now."