Chapter 239
Was George calling me boring, or is he saying this whole argument is boring?
I was still trying to figure it out when, from the corner of my eye, I caught him weaving through the crowd toward the exit.
As he passed by me, a familiar scent drifted over.
That smell used to fill every corner of my life, but now it just made my chest feel tight.
Sarah clearly hadn’t expected that reaction. A flicker of panic and embarrassment crossed her face.
Without another word, she hurried after him in her little heels, clicking quickly across the floor.
Once the main characters left, the rest quickly lost interest in keeping up the act.
Terry shot Atticus and us a nasty glare, muttered some curses, and followed them out.
The others scattered in small groups, though the looks they gave us carried more complicated meanings.
Atticus was the last to leave.
As he passed, he paused, looked at William, and his tone returned to its earlier calm, even taking on a businessman's seriousness, "Mr. Jones, I'm serious about the collaboration. Think it over carefully."
William glanced at him without saying anything, just gave a barely noticeable nod to acknowledge he'd heard.
Atticus said nothing more and left.
The hall suddenly felt much emptier, with only the lingering smell of champagne and faint whispers.
I stood there, watching George and Sarah's figures disappear through the doorway, watching them get into their car, the black sedan sliding silently into the night.
The champagne glass in my hand was covered in tiny droplets of condensation, ice cold to the touch.
I pulled at the corner of my mouth, trying to smile.
How ironic.
I stayed where I was, wanting to know if he would say something.
And he said "boring"—that one word wiped everything clean.
William said quietly, "Let's go."
I nodded, put the unfinished champagne back on a tray, and left with him.
The car drove into the night, city lights flying backward past the windows.
I leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes, and said nothing.
When we got back to the office, it was nearly midnight.
Only our floor was still lit.
The colleagues working late saw William and me come in together, and especially seeing William's grim face, they all instinctively quieted down, even their keyboard typing became careful.
Without a word, William went straight to his office. The door closed behind him with a dull thud.
I walked to my desk and had just sat down, barely catching my breath, when several heavy thuds sounded from inside his office.
The outer office area instantly went dead silent.
Everyone stopped what they were doing, looking at each other with uncertain expressions on their faces.
Emily poked her head out from the break room, still holding a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
Seeing me, she immediately put down the cup, walked over quickly, and asked in a low voice, "What happened? Didn't you guys go to that conference? Who pissed him off?"
I told Emily about how Sarah had intercepted the Louis connection halfway and stomped on us while she was at it.
After hearing my story, Emily was so angry she rolled up her sleeves and paced back and forth.
"That old bastard Louis, is he blind? Everyone in the industry knows what Sarah's capable of. What gives her the right to steal our project?"
"And Sarah, she's a professional scavenger! First she picks up men, then projects, and after stealing the project she has to show off in your face. Does she have any shame at all?"
I leaned back in my chair, watching her get angry on my behalf, and somehow felt less blocked up inside.
"Okay," I tugged at her sleeve, "sit down, you're making me dizzy."
Emily plopped heavily back into her chair,still breathing hard.
"I'm just so angry." She stared at me. "You're just going to let her get away with it?"
I shook my head.
"Let her? Why should I?"
"But at today's event, getting into a fight with them would just give more people something to laugh about. People like Louis—if he can listen to Terry's gossip and reject me today, he can betray Sarah tomorrow for profit. Just wait and see."
Emily paused, then nodded, "You're right."
She stopped, then suddenly remembered something and asked in a low voice, "So what do we do? We still need to find a manufacturing partner, right?"
I nodded.
"Find one." I said. "Wasn't there another backup option? What was it called..."
"EverTrust Precision?" Emily filled in. "Their quote was high, so we didn't consider them before."
"High quotes have their reasons." I stood up. "I'm going to talk to William."
Outside his office, it was completely quiet.
I knocked.
"Come in." William's voice came through, sounding calm again.
I pushed the door open.
The office was spotless, showing no trace of the storm that had just passed. Only a few crumpled paper balls sat in the trash can beside his desk.
William looked up at me, offering a slightly strained smile. "Sorry about the noise earlier. I was just pissed off—being robbed so openly, and mocked to our faces."
He paused, looking at me seriously, "It's not your fault, don't feel guilty."
"And just now, I lost control—did I scare you?"
I froze for a moment.
I hadn't expected that, after throwing things around in here to vent, his first words would be to comfort me and tell me not to blame myself.
I've known William for so many years, and he's always been like this.
Even when he's furious, he still thought about how I felt.
Something soft stirred in my chest, spreading into a faint, aching warmth.
"It's good to let it out." I walked over and sat across from him, keeping my tone steady.
"But this situation does have something to do with me."
"Sarah is targeting me, George..." I paused, skipping over that name. "Anyway, it's because of me. You don't need to comfort me."
William frowned, about to argue.
I raised my hand to stop him and continued, "But we can't give up. If the Louis connection is dead, we find another one. I remember from Ember's screening list, there was a company called EverTrust Precision. Their technology and equipment are top-notch, just very expensive, and they require a large upfront payment. We shelved it because of cash flow."
William nodded, "I know that one. Their price is thirty percent above market average, and they want fifty percent upfront. With our current cash flow, it would be tough."
"I'll figure out the money." I met his eyes, stating the decision I’d already made. "Among the divorce settlement George gave me, there are several properties. I'll sell one, and count the money as my investment. Let's get past this hurdle first."
"No way." William refused immediately, his tone firm. "That's your personal property, it's security for the future, for you and Milly. The project funding issue—the company will find a way, through financing or other shareholders..."
"William," I interrupted him, my voice not loud but very firm, "you and I both know how important this project is."
"Now's not the time to be polite. Sarah stealing Louis isn't just about losing one partner—it's a signal."
"If we can't produce something decent on this project, things will only get harder. Houses are dead things, people are alive. If I sell one, I still have others. It's settled."
William looked at me, his eyes complex—moved, conflicted, finally turning into a helpless sigh.
"Grace, you..."
"It's my money, I decide how to use it." I said. "Count it as my investment, just give me dividends later."
He tried to speak again, but I waved him off.
"I already listed the house online." I said. "It's settled."
William knew he couldn't talk me out of it, and finally didn't object, only saying seriously, "Then it’ll be counted as additional equity, valued at market rate."
"Fine."
That settled it.
Selling a well-renovated apartment would sting,, but if it solved our urgent problem, it was worth it.
The next morning, I'd just gotten to the office when my phone rang.
The real estate agent calling.
Thinking someone wanted to view the property, I answered in a pretty upbeat tone, "Someone interested already?"
Then the agent spoke, sounding awkward. "Ms. Brown, I'm calling to suggest you might want to pull the listing?"
I was confused, "Why?"
"This property..." the agent hesitated, "I'm afraid it won't be easy to sell."
"Why wouldn't it sell?" I was even more confused. "It’s newly renovated, the style is modern, and the location is great. What’s the issue?"
"Is the price too high? We can adjust it."