No one dared tempt fate.
Vernon was convinced his days were numberert
As he wavered between an early demise or a late one, Eddie sent the follow up
The culprit. was someone from their own headquarters?
Vernon was so furious he nearly coughed up blood.
By the end, he felt a fresh wave of dread.
He had to admit, Miss Selwyn had guts–she stuck around and finished the interview!
The moment Gideon wrapped up his second meeting, Vernon reported everything in full.
Sure enough, as he finished, the man who already looked like a grim reaper managed to look even more menacing.
“Firing her would be too kind,” Gideon said coldly.
“She likes to stir up drama? Fine. Transfer her to Sales.”
The Prescott Group’s Sales Department was infamous–a pressure cooker that had chewed up and spat out more than a few careers.
Every single staff member in there worked themselves to the bone. If you didn’t drop dead from exhaustion, you kept working until you wished you would.
The managers were masters of manipulation, dangling empty promises and stringing their teams along like overworked dogs–miserable, but unable to quit.
It was practically an urban legend: if you ever lost the will to live, just join Prescott’s Sales Department.
There, you’d experience firsthand what it meant to wish for death over another workday.
Vernon silently sent his condolences to the doomed troublemaker.
Godspeed, lady.
Celestine left Seabay in the early evening.
1/3
18:51
She politely declined Eddie’s offer for dinner.
On her drive back to the apartment, she passed a nearby grocery store.
She pulled in to restock on some fresh ingredients.
As she walked toward the entrance, Celestine glanced at her phone.
A new, unread message from Mr. Shield caught her by surprise.
Their last conversation had ended when he told her to pick up some scar cream.
She touched the corner of her eye–Clifton’s ointment had worked wonders.
She hadn’t expected much, but in just a few days, the redness had faded significantly.
Now, Gideon had sent a voice message–a full sixty seconds long.
Celestine felt a strange sense of curiosity.
That man, as silent and cold as a glacier, had managed to record a message for that long?
Puzzled, she pressed play.
A child’s sweet, piping voice burst out:
“Hi Miss Angel! Are you there? It’s Cynthia–I’m using Uncle’s phone to message you! Do you remember me? Uncle said you live across from Grandpa’s house–can I come over to play? I really miss the soup you made–it was so yummy! Miss Angel, reply when you see this, okay?”
Celestine’s lips curled into a soft smile as she listened.
It was little Cynthia from the hospital–Gideon’s niece.
No wonder. Mr. Shield sending a voice message, let alone one this long, would be out of character.
Before she could reply, that cold, black profile picture sent her a cartoonish crying emoji.
Celestine’s gaze softened.
She sent back a kiss emoji from her gallery.
Knowing Cynthia might not read yet, she pressed the voice record button. “Of course I remember you, Cynthia! I’m actually at the store right now–if there’s anything special you want for dinner tonight, let me know!”
Chapte B
She hit send.
A moment later, another kiss emoji popped up.
Celestine laughed quietly, delighted.
A new voice message followed right behind.
She pressed play–and a rich, languid male voice filled her ear: “Anything’s fine. Need an extra hand? I’m happy to help.”
Celestine hastily stopped the playback.
Him?
His voice was like a rare vinyl spinning in the darkness–deep, smooth, with a lazy drawl that made her heart skip.
She’d never admitted it out loud, but she was a sucker for a good voice.
And Gideon’s… well, it had her ears burning.
No way could she listen to that a second time.
