Chapter 92
"This is a one-time offer."
Charlotte pushed the business card closer to him. "You can either stay here and let these lowlifes humiliate you, begging them for your sister's medical bills — or you can come with me and use your talent to crush everyone who ever held you down."
"Your call."
After all, she wasn't some saint. She had no patience to keep standing here waiting on him.
Frederick hesitated for a moment, then his breathing grew faster.
He stared at the business card for a long time before finally reaching out to take it.
"Alright. Nine o'clock tomorrow morning. I'll be at the Langley Group. On time."
"Good."
Charlotte pulled her hand back and turned toward her car. "Go get that wound treated tonight. I don't want to see a Langley Group employee showing up tomorrow with a busted face."
With that, she got in the car.
The headlights came on. The engine roared. Then the car disappeared out of the alley.
In the rearview mirror, the young man's figure shrank to a tiny dot. Charlotte looked away, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, her gaze growing distant.
She had to admit — tonight had been quite a good night.
Back at the villa, the motion sensor light in the entryway clicked on. A soft glow spread across the room.
"You're back."
The low voice came from nearby. Charlotte froze, one hand still holding her shoe.
She looked up. Alexander was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, as if he'd been waiting for a while.
She was caught off guard.
"It's late. You're still up? What's going on?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to her and looked her up and down carefully before letting out a quiet breath.
"Where were you this late? You weren't picking up your phone."
That's when Charlotte remembered — she'd left her phone in her bag. When she was dealing with those guys in the alley, she hadn't thought to check it at all.
"I had something to take care of. My phone was on silent."
She said it casually and tried to step around him to get some water.
As she passed him, his hand caught her wrist.
Not hard — but firm enough that she couldn't ignore it.
"Charlotte, you've ended up in the hospital twice already in the past little while..."
Charlotte's eyes flickered. "I know. I can handle myself."
"You're capable. I know you can handle a lot on your own. But..."
Alexander's voice dropped, carrying a tension that was barely noticeable. "I still worry about you."
"Promise me — whatever happens from now on, just let me know. At least let me know you're safe. Can you do that?"
As he spoke, his eyes were half in shadow, half in light — like a calm sea under the lamp, quiet and steady on the surface, but with something unseen underneath.
Maybe it was the intensity of what he felt, or maybe it was how openly he showed it. Either way, Charlotte found herself looking away, a strange discomfort rising in her chest.
Honestly, she'd spent years facing every storm on her own and never backing down. That was just who she was.
And now here was someone stepping into her world, telling her he cared. That he worried about her.
It was unfamiliar. It made her uneasy. She lowered her head.
"I... okay. I got it."
She said it quietly, then pulled her wrist free.
"I'm tired. I'm going to wash up. You should get some sleep too."
He stood there and watched her hurry away. He didn't move. The worry in his eyes stayed long after she was gone.
---
The next morning at nine o'clock sharp, there was a knock on the door of the Langley Group's president's office.
"Come in."
The door opened and Frederick walked in.
He had on a clean but worn T-shirt and jeans. His face and the corner of his mouth still showed signs of last night's injuries, and he still looked rough — but there was something different about him. He seemed more alive. The light was back in his eyes.
He still had that worn sketchbook tucked under his arm, and in his other hand he carried a bulging folder.
"Ms. Johnson..."
"Have a seat."
Charlotte nodded and gestured to the chair across from her. "Let me see your designs."
He sat down and carefully pulled the drawings out of the folder, spreading them across the wide coffee table alongside the sketchbook.
Charlotte scanned them. She had a pretty good sense of things already.
Beyond the "ruins" series she'd seen the night before, there was another collection inspired by deep-sea creatures, and one built around industrial and mechanical aesthetics.
The first used the delicacy of jellyfish, the sway of sea anemones, and the structure of fish bones to shape jewelry forms. The second drew on gears, chains, and bolts to create something that felt like post-modern art.
Charlotte went through them one by one. She didn't say a word, but her eyes kept getting brighter.
She finally understood why those judges had tried to shut him down.
Because his talent was blinding. Bright enough to make those by-the-book, long-dried-up veterans feel threatened.
"These are exceptional."
After the last piece, Charlotte gave her verdict without hesitation. "I want all of them."
"We'll pay you at the top market rate."
"And I'd like to formally offer you a position at my studio — as the lead designer of our newly formed jewelry design department."
Frederick stopped breathing for a second.
Lead designer?
Just landing a regular design job would have felt like more than he deserved. Lead designer had never even crossed his mind.
"Ms. Johnson..." His throat felt dry. "I..."
"Don't worry about the salary. You'll be happy with it."
Charlotte thought for a moment, then continued. "As for your sister's condition — I can advance you a full year's salary upfront. And I'll have someone reach out through our medical network to help find a suitable kidney donor for her."
"All you need to do is focus on your work. Everything else, I'll handle."
Frederick's eyes went red.
He'd spent the past year being looked down on, humiliated, turned away at every door. He had completely given up.
And now, out of nowhere, Charlotte was reaching out to help.
He stood up and bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Ms. Johnson. I'll give it everything I have. I won't let you down."
Charlotte looked at his earnest expression and smiled. She was just about to press the intercom to call Jason in when the office door flew open.
"Boss, we've got a problem. Henry's downstairs, causing a scene in the lobby."
Jason's words wiped the smile off Charlotte's face instantly.
She pressed her lips together, said a few quick words to Frederick, and headed out.
By the time she reached the first-floor lobby, a crowd had already gathered — people huddled together, whispering and pointing at the man in the middle of the room who was shouting at the top of his lungs.