Chapter 3

Jared's assistant fired off a hardline email, warning the company to cut off all unofficial contact immediately or else all future partnership would be up for reconsideration.

That email landed like a hammer blow, smashing Brandon's last shred of hope.

Daniel called right after, his tone cold and leaving no room for negotiation. "Three days. That's all you get. If you can't fix this, you're fired."

*****

Meanwhile, after I hung up on Brandon, my phone started ringing again.

When Gerald Barnes's name popped up on my screen, I took a deep breath.

Gerald was one of the people that a headhunter said was very interested in me.

"Good morning, Miss Hughes," Gerald greeted me.

His voice was calm and had a certain charm, making it pleasant to listen to.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes," I replied.

"Sorry to bother you," he said, sounding genuinely polite. "I checked out your resume, and the project you led in the mid east at your last job was a standout achievement."

He nailed every detail, describing how I used my insight into the local culture to build a tailor-made tech solution for the client, making us the obvious choice over all the other competitors.

These were things one would never find in any public records.

Honestly, I was caught off guard. "How do you know about that?"

Gerald chuckled on the other end. "We headhunters have our ways of getting the scoop. Real talent is like a star in the night sky. One just can't keep it hidden."

His words washed over me like a warm current, chasing away the last bit of gloom in my heart.

"Miss Hughes, are you free today? I'd like to meet up. There's a great opportunity I think you'd be perfect for," Gerald said.

We met at a high-end café, the kind of place with a stylish vibe.

Gerald looked younger than I'd pictured. He was maybe forty, dressed in smart casual. His gaze was both keen and genuine.

He didn't waste any time with small talk. He pulled a file from his briefcase and slid it across the table to me.

Gerald slid the file over and said, "Isom Group."

I glanced at the gold-embossed letters on the cover, and my heart skipped a beat.

Isom Group was my former employer's sworn enemy. The two companies were always at each other's throats in the business world.

"They want you as their Director of Business Development," Gerald said.

I opened the folder and checked out the job details and salary.

They were paying me twice my current pay.

Gerald didn't rush me. He sipped his coffee quietly, giving me all the time I needed to think.

Then he broke down what was going on at my old company, pointing out how Brandon's out-of-touch management style was bound to make good people leave and the business grind to a halt.

After that, he highlighted what made Isom Group different: their deep technical foundation, a strong company culture, and a genuine respect and hunger for top-tier talent.

Every word he said hit home.

"Miss Hughes, I can see you're a true business professional. What you need is a place where you can focus on your strengths, not get bogged down in office politics and endless infighting," Gerald said.

His sincerity made it hard to say no.

Still, I kept my composure and stayed clear-headed.

"Mr. Barnes, thanks for believing in me," I said, closing the folder. "But I should be honest with you. I was basically forced to resign by my last company, and..."

I hesitated for a moment before saying, "They might try to give me trouble over the non-compete agreement."

Gerald smiled, his confidence shining through. "Miss Hughes, you don't need to stress about this. For starters, the whole 'forced resignation' thing doesn't hold any legal weight. They didn't give you any severance, so the non-compete doesn't even apply.

"And even if they want to make a fuss, Isom Group's got a top-notch legal team. They'll take care of everything. Honestly, we just want you."

His words wiped away my last bit of doubt.

"I need to think it over," I said, not committing right away. It was my negotiation tactic.

"Of course." Gerald nodded, totally understanding.

While I was having a great time exploring new opportunities, my old coworkers were scrambling to fix the mess they'd made, using the most ridiculous methods imaginable.

Somehow, they got their hands on my home address.

That evening, I'd barely stepped inside when the doorbell rang.

I peeked through the peephole and saw Arthur's greasy face. He was holding a cheap-looking fruit basket.

I didn't open the door.

"Caryl, I know you're in there," Arthur called out. "Mr. Jenkins sent me to check on you. We're colleagues. Don't be so cold."

His voice echoed down the empty hallway, getting on my nerves.

"Open the door. Let's talk. The company won't treat you badly," he said.

Through the door, I shot back icily, "Get lost."

There was a pause outside, as if he was stunned by how direct I was.