Chapter 2
By nine the next morning, the boardroom at Vale Group Headquarters was already in chaos.
I didn't know any of this until Mia sent me a recording of the board secretary's call.
"The construction permit for Whitecliff Phase Two has been put on hold?" Adrian's voice was so cold that it sent a chill through the room.
The project manager explained, "It's not the construction permit; it's the design authorization. Bennett Studio notified us last night that the original chief designer has withdrawn from the project.
"According to the contract, any major design changes require new copyright authorization."
"Who withdrew?" Adrian asked.
"C.B."
The room went dead silent for a moment.
"Contact him," Adrian ordered.
"We already did. Bennett Studio said C.B. is back on the job today, but he refuses to keep giving the Vale Group his personal authorization," the project manager replied.
Olivia was sitting in the meeting room too.
Adrian had just hired her as the company's art consultant.
Olivia let out a soft chuckle. "Come on, it's just a designer. Can't you swap him out?"
The project manager said with hesitation, "The exterior of Whitecliff Phase Two is already 40% complete.
"If we switch designers now, we're looking at least 6 million dollars in losses, and the opening will be delayed by six months."
Adrian was silent for a few seconds.
Then he said, "Give me C.B.'s contact info."
The secretary said, "No need to look for it."
"What do you mean?"
"Bennett Studio updated their website this morning."
The screen was projected onto the wall.
The studio's homepage showed only one black-and-white photo.
In the photo, a woman in a simple black suit, her hair pulled back, stood in front of that red brick building.
The headline read: [Chief Designer Clara Bennett Officially Returns.]
There was a line of smaller text below: [International Young Architects Award winner, credited as C.B.]
No one in the room said a word after that.
Adrian stared at the screen for a full minute.
*****
At 10:40 AM, Adrian burst into Bennett Studio.
The receptionist didn't bother stopping him.
I was reviewing the copyright documents for Whitecliff Phase Two with Noah when the office door slammed open.
"Clara," Adrian called out.
I looked up at him.
He must've come straight here. His tie hung loose, his hair all messed up.
In our five-year marriage, I'd hardly seen him lose his composure like this.
"You're C.B.?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
That question actually made me want to laugh.
"You never asked," I said.
He looked like he'd bitten into something sour. "Why did you pull the plug on Whitecliff Phase Two?"
"I'm not doing it anymore," I replied.
"That's the biggest project Vale Group has this year."
"I know."
"You know, and you still..."
He suddenly stopped.
It seemed that he finally realized that we were getting divorced.
I closed the file. "Adrian, for the past four years, I gave Vale Group my designs because I wanted to. Now, I don't.
"Bennett Studio will finish what's already confirmed, but I'm not making any more changes, and I won't sign off on anything new unless I approve it myself."
"Are you trying to get back at me?" he asked.
"No." I looked at him. "I'm just done cleaning up your messes."
Those words wiped the color right off his face.
He walked over to the desk and lowered his voice. "I understand if you hate me because of your dad. But work and marriage aren't the same thing."
"So you did know about my dad," I retorted.
He froze.
Then he replied, "I later knew he was actually in the hospital."
"Well," I replied.
"I didn't do it on purpose that day.
"I didn't ask." I cut him off.
I really didn't want to know. Whether he meant it or not, it didn't matter anymore.
What mattered was that when I begged him, he chose to believe I was lying.
He always took Olivia's side.
Back then, I'd always make him explain himself, so I could grab onto any excuse to keep loving him.
But now, I didn't need to.
Adrian stared at me, as if he'd only realized I wasn't playing the part he'd always expected.
He was silent for a long time before finally saying, "Come home tonight. We need to talk."
"I've already moved out," I said.
"What?"
"I took everything that was mine."
For the first time, genuine disbelief flickered in his eyes. "Clara, how long are you going to keep this act up?"
I glanced down at the calendar. "Six days left."
"Six days for what?"
"Six days until the divorce is final."
His expression darkened. "You're serious?"
I couldn't help but laugh.
Over the five years, this was the first time he'd ever asked me that question seriously.
Too bad, it was way too late.
"Yes," I said.