Chapter 15: Rewards

"You're the one being deceived! You're just jealous!" Emma's voice broke into a hysterical shriek. "Jealous I'm living in a penthouse, jealous Mr. Carter took me on the business trip! Sophie, drop the concerned friend act—my life is none of your damn business!"

The line went dead, leaving only the hollow drone of the dial tone.

Sophie stood frozen, phone still pressed to her ear, feeling whatever remained of their friendship slip away like water through her fingers.

It was the worst fight they'd ever had.

Emma's job was gone. Final.

At that moment, in the luxury penthouse overlooking Central Park, Emma stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, wine glass in hand.

She'd been fired. Sebastian had sent her back to Empire City without a shred of mercy, her reputation in tatters.

But he hadn't made her leave the apartment.

That single fact pulsed through her like adrenaline, rekindling a fragile hope amid the wreckage of her despair.

A slow, calculating smile curved Emma's lips.

He still wanted her.

The professional failure had enraged him, sure—but somewhere in that cold heart, she still had a place.

Otherwise, given his ruthless nature, why would he let her stay in his apartment?

He was just angry. Once he cooled down, everything would return to normal.

Sophie, that naive fool, thought she could drive a wedge between them.

What did she know?

Men like Sebastian were puzzles. Especially powerful men—they required special handling, careful strategy.

She'd been careless this time.

Next time, she wouldn't make the same mistake.

Emma swirled the wine in her glass, watching the deep red liquid trace glossy arcs along the crystal, mirroring the ambition reigniting in her eyes.

She wouldn't just stay. She'd cement her position permanently.

The hundred-million-dollar loss weighed on Sophie's chest like a stone.

She couldn't save Emma's job, but she refused to let the project bear that stain.

For the next three days, Sophie practically lived at the office, buried under mountains of research.

She combed through every email, every meeting transcript with their partners, line by line. Finally, in an overlooked attachment clause, she found it—a loophole that could secure additional technology patent rights for the Carter Group.

She worked through the night drafting a comprehensive supplementary proposal, analyzing how the patent authorization could benefit their partners' future market positioning, then leveraging it to propose a new cooperation model that would offset the three-percent profit loss.

When the meticulously detailed proposal landed on Sebastian's desk, something flickered in those ice-blue eyes—a glimmer of approval he couldn't quite hide.

Two days later, word came from Eldoria. The partners had accepted the new cooperation model. Crisis averted—and the Carter Group had gained an unexpected strategic advantage.

Then came the email from the executive office that set the branch buzzing: Secretary Sophie, in recognition of her exceptional contribution and crisis management on the project, was awarded a substantial bonus and salary increase.

When the news reached Emma, she was sprawled on the penthouse sofa getting an aromatherapy treatment.

A former coworker had sent her a screenshot—someone who still thought they were friends.

"Crisis management?" Emma stared at those burning words, her knuckles white around her phone, manicured nails nearly piercing the screen.

She shot upright, chest heaving, eyes venomous.

Crisis management, my ass. She'd climbed over Emma's corpse to get there. First stealing her position, now taking credit for her disaster. Sophie, you calculating bitch. I underestimated you.

She grabbed her phone and called her college class president, voice sweet as honey. "Hey, count me in for the weekend reunion."

The college reunion was held at an upscale private club.

By the time Sophie arrived, the private room was already buzzing with conversation.

She'd barely sat down when the door swung open again, instantly commanding every eye in the room.

Emma made her entrance.

Designer suit. Luxury handbag. A diamond necklace that caught the light like a spotlight, throwing brilliant sparks across the room.

Her makeup was flawless, chin tilted just so, radiating an unmistakable aura of "I'm not like you anymore."

"Emma? Oh my God, you look incredible! I barely recognized you!" one of the women gasped.

Emma offered a demure smile, her gaze sweeping the room before landing on Sophie in her simple dress. Something cold and contemptuous flashed in her eyes. "Long time no see, Sophie."

Her tone was casual, as if they were merely acquaintances.

Sophie's stomach tightened.

The Emma standing before her was a stranger—and that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

Naturally, the conversation gravitated toward Emma. "That outfit must've cost a fortune! Have you actually landed yourself a sugar daddy?"

"We're not married yet," Emma said with practiced shyness, tucking hair behind her ear. "My boyfriend doesn't want me working. Says he'd rather take care of me. I just shop, get spa treatments… honestly, it gets boring."

Her humble-brag triggered a chorus of envious sighs.

Someone pressed further. "What does your boyfriend do? He must be loaded!"

"Oh, him." Emma's chin lifted higher. "He runs a major enterprise. I don't really understand the details, but you'd probably recognize his name from the financial news."

Vague enough to be mysterious, specific enough to fuel speculation.

Sophie sipped her juice in silence, emotions churning.

Halfway through the evening, Sophie excused herself to the restroom, desperate for air.

She'd just reached the dimly lit hallway when a man reeking of alcohol blocked her path, eyes raking over her.

"Hey beautiful, all alone? I've been watching you. How about we get to know each other?" His tone was sleazy as he reached for her hand.

Sophie's pulse spiked. She stepped back sharply. "Get out of my way."

"Don't be like that," he leered, moving closer. "I'm way more fun than those broke friends of yours. Come with me—I'll show you a good time."

He lunged for her arm. Sophie jerked back, about to scream, when a hand shot out from the side—strong fingers clamping around the man's wrist with surgical precision.

"Leave."

The drunk man yelped in pain, whipping around to curse—then froze, sobering instantly.

Sebastian stood there, expression glacial, those ice-blue eyes sharp enough to draw blood.

"Mr... Mr. Carter..." The man stammered, backing away. "Misunderstanding! Total misunderstanding!"