Chapter 6
My gaze fell on his arm.
His suit cuff was clean and perfectly pressed.
Earlier, when he helped Vivian dry off, the tissue got a bit damp.
Now, he seemed nervous that the media would catch me standing here.
"I'm going to the company," I said.
"What for?" he asked.
"To pick up the original test disks from the lab."
Charles's brows furrowed more. "Pick them up tomorrow."
"Why?"
He paused for a moment. "Things are too hectic today."
I threw the question right back at him. "Is it that crazy today, or are you worried about me walking in right now?"
For a moment, his gaze hardened.
But he pulled himself together fast.
"You're overthinking it," he said.
I sidestepped him and headed toward the curb.
He followed me for a couple of steps, but then his phone rang.
The screen lit up, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the name on his phone: Vivian.
Charles stopped in his tracks.
I paused, too.
He looked at me, as if he wanted to explain himself.
The phone kept buzzing.
I answered for him. "Go ahead, answer it."
He pressed his lips together and answered the call.
Vivian's voice came through the phone, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. It was a faint, choked sound.
Charles's face shifted. "Don't cry. I'll be right there.
"Vivian is getting grilled by the media, and it's upsetting her. I need to go check on her," he hung up and said quietly.
I nodded.
He looked like he could finally breathe. "Go home for now. Don't head to the office alone. If anything comes up, we'll talk tonight."
I didn't say anything.
He turned and walked into the building.
The glass doors slid shut, and for a moment, it was my lonely reflection staring back at me.
I stood there for a few seconds, then flagged down a cab. "Cloudspire Tower B."
The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Weren't you over there?"
"Just take me to the R&D entrance."
As the car pulled away, I glanced back at Cloudspire Tower B.
The lights on the top floor were still on.
Charles was probably already back with Vivian.
I looked away.
The silver access card in my palm felt almost hot from how tightly I was gripping it.
Charles had personally handed it to me the day Cloudspire Technologies moved into the new headquarters.
He said, "You're the only one the core lab trusts."
That day, I scanned the card at the lab entrance; the moment the door opened, all the brand-new equipment inside lit up together.
I couldn't stop laughing for a long time.
Looking back now, that laughter feels distant, as if it came from behind a pane of glass.
*****
Ten minutes later, the car pulled up at the R&D entrance.
It was much quieter here than at the front desk.
The ground, still wet from the rain, reflected the white light, and the motion-sensor lights at the entrance flicked on one after another.
I walked up to the access control panel and swiped my card.
Beep. Red letters flashed across the screen. [Access revoked.]
I thought maybe the card had gotten wet, so I wiped it off and swiped again.
The screen flashed red again.
I tried my fingerprint instead.
A cold, robotic female voice rang out from the speaker. "Your identity has been transferred."
It was transferred.
I hovered my finger over the scanner, frozen in place for what felt like forever.
Inside the glass doors, the security guard on duty stepped out of his booth.
He recognized me. "Ms. Shaw."
He looked a bit awkward after calling my name, glancing at the system screen.
"Looks like the access permissions were changed today," he said.
"Who changed them?" I asked.
The guard scratched his head. "Ms. Mitchell told us. She said only Mr. Graham and she can go into the core lab today, so nothing from the press conference gets out."
She worried about leaking materials?
I couldn't help but laugh.
Who put together all those files?
Who set up the entire system?
Who watched over every single piece of equipment in that lab?
And now here I am, standing outside these glass doors, treated like some kind of intruder.
The guard lowered his voice. "Ms. Shaw, maybe you should call Mr. Graham?"
I glanced down at my phone.
Charles hadn't messaged me.
But Vivian had posted a group photo in the company group chat.
In the picture, she was standing right next to Charles.
The caption read: [Thanks to everyone who stood by my side.]
I locked my phone screen.
"No need," I said.
I moved over to the glass wall on the side.
The lab lights were still burning.
Through the glass, I could see my old workstation.
To be honest, it wasn't mine anymore.
The long table that once held three monitors was now completely cleared out.
All that was left was a white aroma diffuser and a bottle of pale pink lisianthus.
The troubleshooting list I'd stuck to the side of the monitor had been ripped off and tossed, crumpled in the trash.
On the whiteboard by the window, half of the system architecture diagram had been erased.
In its place, some stylish buzzwords had been scrawled across the board: Brand Vision.
I stood outside the glass wall, staring at those words.
The door opened from the inside.
The guard, probably feeling a bit sorry for me, let me in with a temporary visitor pass. "Ms. Shaw, please hurry. Don't put me in a tough spot."
I nodded my thanks and headed inside.