Chapter178 A Humiliating Escape
"Clifton! Why are you taking her side? She abandoned us! That's a fact! And besides... what kind of emergency could that pathetic little company of hers possibly have? I bet she just didn't want to be with us. She was giving us attitude!"
Her words dripped with undisguised contempt.
In her eyes, Miranda's fledgling startup was basically a joke. How could it possibly be more important than keeping Isabella company?
Clifton's hand paused.
A soft snap.
He set the newspaper down on the coffee table.
Celeste shrank back instinctively and shut her mouth.
Clifton turned his head and fixed her with a cold stare.
"Pathetic company?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a pressure that made her scalp tingle. "Miranda's company just won the gold medal at the Global New Energy Competition. The entire industry is watching her. And in your mouth, it's pathetic?"
Celeste's face flushed red. She stammered, trying to argue back. "Well... it's still just a... a startup..."
"Sounds like you have too much free time."
Clifton cut her off. "Since you look down on other people's hard work, you can experience it yourself."
He tapped his fingers twice on the wheelchair armrest, like delivering a final verdict.
"You've been out of school for a year. All you do is shop and cause trouble. Starting next month, you'll report to the company. I'll have my assistant supervise you. You'll start as an entry-level sales rep."
"What?"
Celeste jumped off the sofa, her eyes wide as saucers. "Clifton, are you kidding? Me? A sales rep? No way! I'll die!"
"Then I'll cancel all your credit cards."
Clifton didn't even bother looking at her. His tone was cold. "Try me."
Celeste deflated instantly.
She knew Clifton never made empty threats. If he really cut her off, how would she ever show her face among her friends again?
She bit her lip hard, her eyes turning red, hatred for Miranda growing like wildfire in her chest.
This was all Miranda's fault!
If it weren't for her, why would Clifton suddenly force her to suffer through a job?
Isabella, sitting nearby, quietly clenched her hands on her lap.
She watched Clifton's cold profile, and a sense of crisis washed over her like a rising tide.
She had assumed Clifton married Miranda just to appease Mr. Prescott. After all, business marriages and marriages of convenience were common in their circle. Everyone understood.
But just now, Clifton had defended Miranda. He hadn't said much, but he had punished his own cousin for her sake.
Could it be... he actually had feelings for that woman?
No.
Isabella took a deep breath, forcing down the panic. She put on her gentle, harmless smile again.
"Clifton, don't be so hard on her. Celeste is still young."
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she lightly tapped her forehead. "Oh, I almost forgot. Before I came back, my father asked me to bring you some documents. He said there's some critical data you need to review personally."
She stood up and looked at Clifton apologetically. "The documents are in my suitcase in my room. My father said they're very important. Could you come up with me to get them?"
Clifton didn't think twice. He turned his wheelchair around. "Let's go."
Watching Clifton and Isabella disappear up the stairs one after the other, Celeste's anger at Miranda still burned. She grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa and hurled it to the ground.
Less than a minute later, Miranda walked into the living room carrying her bag, exhaustion written all over her face.
She had just changed her shoes when she looked up and met Celeste's hate-filled glare.
Celeste let out a mocking laugh. "Finally decided to come home? I thought you were going to live at that pathetic company of yours forever."
Miranda had no energy to fight with her. She gave her a disinterested glance and tried to walk past.
Celeste stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Her smile turned nasty and triumphant. "Don't you want to know where Clifton is right now?"
Miranda frowned.
She scanned the living room. Clifton was nowhere to be seen.
"No idea. If you need him, you can call him."
She moved to walk away again.
Celeste grew even more irritated watching her act so indifferent. She decided to be blunt.
"Clifton? He's in Isabella's room right now."
The words exploded in Miranda's mind. Her feet, already headed for the stairs, froze mid-step.
She thought after a whole night of mental preparation, she could face anything calmly.
But hearing "he's in Isabella's room" made the bitterness surge up uncontrollably.
"What's wrong? Does it hurt?"
Celeste had been watching her expression closely. Catching that split second of rigidity, she felt immensely satisfied.
She crossed her arms, her voice dripping with mockery.
"Miranda, know your place. You're not good enough for my cousin. Not in family background, not in ability. You're not even worthy of carrying Isabella's shoes."
"I suggest you wise up, ask for a divorce yourself, and stop dreaming about holding onto this position. Some things were never meant to be yours. No matter how hard you try, you can't take them."
Miranda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing down the churning emotions.
She turned and faced Celeste's smug eyes.
"You're wrong."
"I'm not dreaming." She stepped forward, staring Celeste down. "No matter what you think, no matter how much you hate me, this position belongs to me right now. That's a fact. Isn't it?"
With that, she didn't look at Celeste again, ignoring the curses thrown at her back. She gripped her bag tighter and headed upstairs.
The second-floor hallway was covered in thick carpet, muffling all sound.
Miranda walked mechanically, wanting nothing more than to reach her room and hide.
But as she passed Isabella's door, her feet felt like they were weighed down with lead. She slowed involuntarily.
The door wasn't fully closed. It was slightly ajar.
Then a voice drifted through the gap.
"Clifton, don't..."
It was Isabella's voice.
Not her usual gentle tone. This one was tinged with something coy, with a breathless, teasing quality.
Then came a man's low groan.
Deep. Suppressed. Strained.
"Mm."
It was Clifton's voice.
Miranda's mind went blank with a deafening buzz.
Explicit images began flooding her thoughts uncontrollably.
That suggestive exchange. Those restrained breaths.
Miranda felt like all the blood in her body had frozen solid.
Her left hand flew to her chest, clutching the fabric over her heart as she gasped, trying to ease the suffocating pressure.
Finally, she fled upstairs to her room, nearly stumbling in her desperate escape.