Chapter 73

Chapter 73

He turned around, looked at me, and said, "I told you, I want you to be okay. Emerald City is too suffocating for you. A change of environment will be good."

"But..." I wanted to say something, but he cut me off.

"No buts, get in the car. Any later and you'll miss your flight." He opened the passenger door and looked at me.

I hesitated for a moment, but eventually got in. I didn't know what he was really thinking, or if he had some ulterior motive for helping me like this.

But with his help, William wouldn't be able to find me easily, and for now, that was the best outcome I could hope for.

The car drove smoothly.

Matthew would talk to me occasionally, asking if I had a place to stay in Silverlight City, and whether I needed him to arrange something.

I declined each time, saying I'd already contacted a hotel and would find work slowly, and didn't want to trouble him anymore.

He didn't insist, just said, "If you run into any trouble, call me anytime. No matter when, I'll help you."

I nodded without saying anything.

At the airport, Matthew helped me get my suitcase out and handed me an envelope, saying, "There's some money in here, take it. When you get there, find a decent place first and get settled."

I quickly refused. "No need, I have my own money."

He stuffed the envelope into my hand, saying, "Take it. This isn't a gift, it's a loan. When you find a job later, you can pay me back."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He nodded. "Safe travels, and let me know when you get there."

I nodded, pulled my suitcase, turned around and walked into the airport.

Entering the waiting area, I took out my phone and sent Ember a message, telling her I'd already left.

Then I opened the envelope. Inside was a stack of cash and a note with his private phone number, with a small line of text next to it: [If anything happens, you can call this number.]

I looked at the note, and soon it was time to board. I got on the plane and left Emerald City.

Three hours later, the plane landed in Silverlight City.

Walking out of the airport, I dragged my suitcase and took a taxi to the budget hotel I'd booked, following the route I'd looked up in advance.

The room wasn't big, but it was clean and tidy. I put down my luggage and collapsed on the bed.

After that, I stayed at the hotel while frantically sending out resumes.

Learning from my experience in Emerald City, I deliberately simplified my work history on my resume, deleted the parts related to Brown Legacy Jewels, and only included some relatively basic design drafts in my portfolio, intentionally hiding my real abilities.

I didn't want to be targeted again because of my identity as "the Brown family's former daughter-in-law," and I definitely didn't want to be found by William's informants.

After a week of constant applications, a jewelry company called "Radiant Jewelry" finally gave me an interview notice.

On the day of the interview, I deliberately wore the most ordinary white shirt and jeans, with no makeup, trying to make myself look as unremarkable as possible.

The interviewer was a woman in her thirties who spoke briskly, "Layla, looking at your resume, you've worked as a design assistant before, so you have some foundation?"

"Yes, I did it for a year, mainly helping designers organize materials and draw basic sketches," I said quietly.

She nodded and said, "Your style is quite solid. We happen to need a jewelry design assistant to work with Alan Fields. Are you willing?"

Alan? My heart sank.

Before the interview, I'd researched this company. Alan was the chief designer, famously talented in the industry, but also famously difficult to work with.

Apparently, he had severe OCD, was extremely demanding about details, and had a bad temper. He'd gone through more than a dozen assistants, and none of them lasted more than three months.

"I'm willing," I answered immediately.

The more difficult the boss, the less likely he'd be to care about my past. As long as I did my work quietly, I should be able to stay long-term.

The interviewer was clearly surprised, probably not expecting me to agree so readily, since many previous candidates had hesitated when they heard it was working with Alan. She smiled and said, "Okay, then come in next Monday. Alan will arrange the specific work for you."

Walking out of the company, the weight on my heart finally lifted halfway. Having a job was good. Having a place to settle meant I could completely cut ties with my past in Emerald City.

Early Monday morning, I arrived at the company half an hour early.

The office environment at "Radiant Jewelry" was nice. The design department was on the top floor with good lighting. A dozen or so people were scattered at their workstations, most of them busy with their heads down.

I found the workstation assigned by HR and had just put my things down when a fashionably dressed woman with short hair walked over, raising her eyebrows as she looked me up and down. "You're the new assistant, Layla?"

"Yes, hello." I stood up to greet her.

She pointed next door and said, "I'm Selina, I sit next to you. Let me tell you something—Mr. Fields has a terrible temper and loves to nitpick. If you don't do the smallest thing right, he might yell at you, so you'd better be careful.

Also, he has OCD. Files must be sorted by date, sketches can't have a single smudge, even his coffee has to be three sugars with no milk—get one thing wrong and you're done for."

My heart tightened, and I quickly nodded, saying, "Thanks for the warning, I'll be careful."

Just then, a tall man walked out of the office, wearing a black tailored suit, his hair combed without a strand out of place, sharp features, and no expression on his face—clearly not someone to mess with.

Selina quickly nudged my arm, saying, "Here he comes, here he comes, that's Mr. Fields."

Alan's gaze swept over and landed on me. He looked me up and down, frowning, "Layla?"

"Yes, Mr. Fields." I quickly responded.

"Follow me to the office." Without saying more, he turned and walked into the adjacent private office.

I followed him in. The office was spotlessly clean, design drawings neatly arranged on shelves by category, even the pens lined up by color—truly living up to his reputation.

Alan sat behind his desk and said, "Your job is mainly to help me organize design materials, draw basic sketches, and coordinate with the factory to confirm details. I don't care how you did things before—here, you follow my rules.

Files must be categorized and archived, not a single number in the coding can be wrong, sketch lines must be smooth with no corrections; my coffee, every day at 10:30 AM, three sugars no milk, delivered on time—not a minute late."

"I've got it, Mr. Fields." I nodded seriously.

He looked up at me and said, "Also, I know you're good-looking, but here, looks don't matter—ability is what counts. If you can't do the job, you're out anytime. I don't keep dead weight."

I nodded. "I'll work hard."