Chapter 4

The next morning, the project status meeting was moved up.

By the time I reached the conference room, two cups of coffee were already set beside the head of the table—one black, one decaf latte.

The decaf used to be mine.

Today, Julia sat in that seat.

Spread out beside her was an overseas resource integration plan. Her white blazer was immaculate, looking as though she had never pulled an all-nighter or stepped foot in an emergency observation room.

Andrew sat next to her. His face was still a bit pale, but he had returned to the persona everyone knew best: calm, assertive, and completely unflappable.

Just as I was about to take my usual seat, Ethan walked over and whispered, "Dr. Lane, Mr. Hughes mentioned that he reserved a spot for you in the observation area behind the partition today.

"The media hookup in the front row has a lot of camera angles, so it might not be convenient."

I looked at him. He couldn't bring himself to meet my eyes.

"Alright," I said, carrying my laptop to the back.

The area behind the partition was narrow, offering a view of only a corner of the projection screen—much like a shadow in this project that was never meant to be caught on camera.

Halfway through the meeting, a glitch hit the link with the overseas branch.

Julia looked up and said, "I'm not familiar enough with this section yet. Is Dr. Lane here?"

Every eye in the room turned toward the back.

Sitting behind the partition, I rattled off the fix line by line: the faulty interface, protocol parameters, and switch nodes.

The issue was resolved in three minutes, and the connection was restored.

"Dr. Lane truly lives up to her reputation as one of the project's founders," someone on the other end praised.

The conference room went quiet for a second.

Andrew tapped the table and seamlessly took over in a flat tone. "Which is why she's far better suited for technical support."

That phrase again. Better suited.

Suited for pulling all-nighters.

Suited for stepping in during a crisis.

Suited for cleaning up messes.

And suited for remaining forever out of the spotlight.

After the meeting wrapped up, a call from Andrew's mother, Victoria Hughes, came through on his phone.

He put it on speaker.

"Bring Julia back for dinner tonight," Victoria said, her voice laced with a smile. "Your father wants to see her too. You can tell right away that Julia knows how to present herself—she's a far cry from those dubious types outside."

Some people hadn't left the conference room yet, making the air instantly awkward.

Andrew raised his eyes and glanced at me.

I was wrapping up my laptop cord, acting as if I hadn't heard a thing.

"As I said at the last family dinner," his mother continued over the line, "no matter how capable that Dr. Lane is, at the end of the day, she's just a doctor. Handling work is one thing, but joining the family is another. I'm glad you've finally come to your senses."

This time, Andrew didn't push back right away.

He simply knit his brows, said, "We'll talk later," and hung up the call.

Yet the absence of a denial was an answer in itself.

I packed my laptop into my bag, stood up, and headed for the door.

As I passed him, he called out to stop me. "Thanks for last night."

I paused.

"Don't take what my mother said to heart," he added.

Looking at him, I suddenly let out a faint chuckle. "Andrew, does it really matter whether I take it to heart or not?"

He seemed choked up by my response, his expression instantly cooling. "Do you really have to talk like this now?"

I nodded. "It'll probably be like this from now on."

He didn't grasp what I meant.

Or rather, he couldn't be bothered to look deeper.

Because in his eyes, I was merely in a bad mood—something that would pass in a couple of days, just like every other time over the last three years.