Chapter 3
On Friday afternoon, I got an email. It was from Richard Lane's secretary's email, with the subject line: "Wedding Invitation."
I opened the email and found a beautifully designed digital invitation inside.
[Richard Lane & Emily Forrest cordially invite you to our wedding.
Date: 28th of next month
Venue: Grand Regency Ballroom
Your blessings mean the world to us.]
I kept staring at their names side by side for a long time. There was a small note at the bottom: [Special thanks to Miss Claire Newman for all the support over the years. We hope you can join us and witness our happiness.]
I closed the email and went back to work. Ten minutes later, Richard called.
"Claire, you got the invitation, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, I did," I replied.
"So..." Richard hesitated for a moment. "I should've talked to you about the wedding way earlier, but I just couldn't find the right time."
"You're getting married," I said.
"Yeah," Richard answered, his voice calm. "Honestly, Emily and I... it started a long time ago. You get what I mean." I stayed silent.
"Claire, I really did you wrong," Richard sighed. "But you have to understand, you can't force love. It just doesn't work that way."
"I get it," I said.
"Really?" Richard seemed a bit taken aback.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Glad to hear that," Richard let out a breath. "So... will you come?"
"I'll be there," I replied. There was a brief silence on the other end.
"You're really coming?" Richard sounded surprised.
"You invited me," I said. "Why wouldn't I?" He seemed at a loss for words. "Richard, is there anything else?" I asked.
"Uh... no, that's it," he replied.
"Then I'll hang up," I said.
I hung up the phone. The screen went dark, and my face appeared in its reflection. 'I felt calm,' I thought to myself.
*****
At 5:30, I started packing up to head home. Susan stopped me at the door. "Claire, I heard the news," Susan leaned in and whispered. "That invitation..."
"I know," I replied.
"You're really going?" Susan frowned. "Why put yourself through that? It's just going to be awkward."
"Susan, what's meant to end should end," I replied. She looked at me, wanting to say something but holding back. "I'm fine," I said, giving her hand a reassuring pat. "Really."
As I walked out of the office building, I stood by the curb for a while. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the street.
My phone buzzed. It was a message from Susan.
[Claire, Richard made it clear. He wants you to resign before the wedding.]
I stared at the message, then read it again. [What exactly did he say?] I texted back.
[He said it's to keep things clean, and wants you to bring it up yourself. Otherwise... his exact words were, 'I'll make you look bad.']
I couldn't help but laugh a little. Just as I was about to reply, someone called out from beside me.
"Claire?"
I looked over. It was a middle-aged man, dressed in business casual, with a warm and approachable look.
"Mr. King?" I recognized him. Richard King from Summit.
"So it really is you," he said, smiling as he walked over. "I thought I saw you from afar, but I wasn't sure."
"What brings you around here, Mr. King?" I asked.
"Just meeting a friend," he said, giving me a quick look. "Just got off work? You don't look so great. Work been tough?"
"No, it's just... there's been a lot going on lately," I replied.
He nodded, not asking any more. "Oh, and next time you drop by Summit, give me a heads-up," he said, handing me a business card. "That's my personal number. If you ever need anything, just call me directly."
I took the card. "Thanks, Mr. King."
"No need to thank me," he said, giving my shoulder a friendly pat. "Your dad really helped me out back then, and you're always so reliable. I know it hasn't been easy for you these years." I froze for a second.
He smiled. "Alright, I won't keep you. Let's catch up another time. I'm off." He waved goodbye and got into a black car by the curb.
I stood there, watching as the car disappeared around the corner. The business card in my hand still carried his warmth. 'Mr. King knew my dad.' I thought.
My dad passed away when I was just fifteen. I never had a clue what he did for a living, or who he helped out. Honestly, I still don't know.
I slipped the business card into my bag and made my way back to the office. It was already after hours, and only a few people were still around.
I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer.
All the files for the Summit Initiative had been sorted by date, from the very first email to the latest one. Client contacts, records of conversations, meeting notes, and email threads—everything was right there.
I stared at the folder on my screen, my fingers paused over the keyboard for a moment. Then I pulled up Mr. King's contact on my phone. "Mr. King, sorry to bother you. Do you have a moment to talk?" I asked.
He picked up right away. "Claire? Have you not finished your work yet?" he said.
"Mr. King, I wanted to check something with you," I said.
"Go ahead," he replied.
"If someone else took over as the contact for the Summit Initiative, would you be alright with that?" I asked.
There was a brief silence on the other end. Then David King's voice came through, with genuine concern in his tone. "Claire, is something wrong? Are you having some trouble?" he asked. I didn't answer right away.
"Listen," he said calmly, "I only agreed to the Summit Initiative because of you. It doesn't matter who else steps in. This 6 million dollar deal is yours and yours alone, Claire." I gripped my phone, staying silent.
"No matter what happens, keep this in mind," he said. "If you ever need anything, reach out to me directly."
"All right. Thank you, Mr. King."
After hanging up, I gazed out the window into the night. Richard said that once I left the company, I'd be nothing. But he never understood; some things were never the company's to begin with. They belonged to me.