If it were an ordinary day, when two people from the same team walked out one after the other, even if they weren’t arm in arm, they’d at least chat side by side for a bit.

But at that moment, the two of them acted like strangers—one with a hint of joy in her brows, the other as pale as ash. The unspoken air of gossip quietly spread around them.

Susan Clark, under the more or less obvious gazes of her colleagues, calmly glanced at her phone, then got up and headed toward Ethan Turner’s office.

The matter had already settled. Ethan Turner no longer had to worry about handling the subordinate disputes she hated most. The irritation and frustration she’d felt that morning after receiving Lily Hughes’s draft had completely dissipated. Now, she sat lazily in her swivel chair, twirling a pen in her hand, smiling as she looked at Susan Clark sitting across from her.

“This thing that Lily Hughes did was really out of line. I just warned her as well, made a note of it, and her performance and year-end evaluations are on hold. I’ll definitely prevent this from happening again in the future.”

Seeing that Susan Clark remained unmoved, she added, “We’re all in the same team, always running into each other. It’s not like we can fire her over this, right?”

After working under Ethan Turner for years, Susan Clark already knew her approach to these matters was always to smooth things over. She didn’t expect her to be decisive or give a clear-cut explanation.

Still, nearly being set up like that—even if she didn’t end up swallowing the loss—left a bit of resentment that was hard to shake off.

Susan Clark looked down at her nails and said nothing.

From Ethan Turner’s perspective, Susan Clark had her eyes lowered, long curled lashes hiding her gaze, but her slightly pouting lips still betrayed her discontent.

Ethan Turner suddenly felt a bit helpless. Even as a woman herself, she couldn’t stand seeing Susan Clark make that expression—naturally cute and a little sulky, like she was acting spoiled or throwing a little tantrum, making it impossible to be harsh with her.

Her thoughts drifted, and she suddenly thought of Susan Clark’s ex-boyfriend.

Just what kind of breathtaking beauty did he find, to be willing to give up someone like her?

Or is it just that men’s flaws are so deeply ingrained?

An awkward silence fell over the office.

Ethan Turner was deeply lost in that unsolvable philosophical question until a meeting reminder popped up on her software, snapping her back to reality. Glancing at the message, she said, “Let’s just leave it at that, okay? Her draft is scrapped, and yours will definitely be the key feature for Q4 this year.”

Susan Clark lazily replied, “Mm.” As she stood up, she heard Ethan Turner coax her, “This isn’t to compensate you—it’s just that your content is genuinely much higher quality than hers. Same interviewee, similar outline, but there’s still a difference between people.”

“Oh.” Susan Clark raised her eyebrows, a hint of pride in her eyes. “Well, what can I say, Ian Shaw just likes me more.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Ethan Turner shot her a glance while sorting through meeting materials.

That look seemed to say, “Did you drink fake wine or are you just talking nonsense?”

“I know you’re the best in our team at in-depth reporting. No need to be modest.”

Susan Clark: “……”

Not that she was being modest.

Why can’t I be someone who gets by on looks?

——

“What did the editor-in-chief say?”

There was a summit at the financial center that afternoon, and the company had arranged for Susan Clark and Nancy Cole to go together. On the way, their conversation naturally revolved around Lily Hughes’s incident.

Seeing that Susan Clark looked fine, Nancy Cole figured she hadn’t suffered any loss. “They must have dealt with it, right?”

“What kind of deal could there be?” Susan Clark touched up her makeup with a small mirror, speaking half-heartedly. “You know what Editor-in-Chief Turner is like—always downplaying big things, smoothing over the small ones. What, is she going to make Lily Hughes do a self-criticism under the national flag?”

“Ugh…”

Nancy Cole made a gagging gesture. “Back when I was a student in the campus news club, this kind of thing happened too. That person is still the star reporter at the TV station, doing great. There’s nothing we can do about people like that—being despicable is a scoundrel’s passport.”

Susan Clark didn’t respond, but pressed her powder puff down hard.

She holds grudges and can’t swallow this easily.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi arrived at their destination and was pulling over.

Susan Clark, sitting on the right, got out first. Nancy Cole, sitting inside, was bending over with her bag, about to get out, when suddenly Susan Clark squeezed back in, pushing her further inside, and shut the car door.

“What are you doing?!” Nancy Cole nearly fell flat on her back in the car, half her body sprawled on the seat, staring at Susan Clark in shock. “Is the ground outside too hot to stand on?”

“Shh!” Susan Clark made a “zip it” gesture and sat there catching her breath.

Damn, she’d just seen Samuel Grant.

Seeing Samuel Grant here wasn’t strange—it was his workplace, after all.

But he’d actually gotten out of the driver’s seat of a Mercedes.

He already got a new car this fast???

For a moment, Susan Clark felt like smoke was coming out of her head.

Normally, she wouldn’t be afraid of running into Samuel Grant.