Chapter 4
The news of our win spread like wildfire through the industry.
That night, my phone blew up with over a dozen messages.
Former colleagues asked if it was true, and industry peers hit me up about teaming up.
Even Victor texted me.
[What trick did you use to pull this off?
[What's your connection with Hugh Benedict from Horizon Group?]
I saw it and just left him on read.
The next morning, when I got to the studio, Ethan forwarded me a post from an industry blog.
The headline read: [Summit Design's Winning Streak Ends—They Lost to a Three-Person Studio.]
The comments section was blowing up.
[A three-person studio? Who's the lead designer?]
[I heard the lead designer only has one hand. That's insane.]
[Wait, Claire Lane? That name sounds so familiar... Wasn't she the one who won the Young Architect Gold Award five years ago?]
[That's her! After that car accident and losing her arm, she totally vanished. She's still in the game?]
[People used to say she was a once-in-a-decade genius. My professor still shows her graduation project as a case study in class.]
I closed the page.
That was five years ago.
Back then, I was twenty-three when I won the Young Architect Gold Award. Just two months after that, I got into a car accident.
Everyone assumed my design career was finished for good.
Even Victor thought the same.
Three months after I lost my arm, he tried to comfort me. "Forget about your career. Just stay home. I'll support you."
He said he'd support me.
He used that word—"support."
Like I was some useless pet he was keeping.
At ten in the morning, Ethan knocked and came in.
"Got something to tell you," he said.
"Go ahead."
"Just got a call—they want you to be a guest speaker at next month's urban renewal forum."
I looked up at him.
"How big of an event are we talking?"
"It's national. The National Architectural Society is hosting it. Usually, the guest speakers are all top experts, but this year they want some younger faces.
"And they asked for you by name."
I paused for a couple of seconds. "I'll go."
Ethan nodded.
"And one more thing," he hesitated. "Summit Design put out a statement today, saying the Horizon Group bidding was shady—basically hinting the judges were biased.
"They didn't mention us by name, but it's obvious who they're talking about."
I leaned back in my chair.
"So basically, they're saying I only won because I had connections," I said.
"Yeah."
I picked up my phone, opened the chat with Victor, and typed out a message.
[If you think it's unfair, go ahead and file a complaint.
[But before you do, ask yourself this—do you actually have the guts to put your proposal and mine out there, side by side, for everyone to see?]
After sending it, I flipped my phone over.
Victor read it in less than thirty seconds.
But there was no reply.
*****
Over the next two weeks, I was juggling the Horizon Group project and prepping for the forum speech.
I had so much on my plate I barely had time to breathe, but every night when I finally crashed, I slept more soundly than I ever did in those three years living with Victor.
On Thursday night, Ethan treated me to dinner.
Halfway through, he put down his fork, looking a little uneasy.
"Claire, there's something I'm not sure I should tell you," he said.
"Just say it."
"I ran into a friend today—he works at Victor's company. He told me something I thought you should know."
Ethan leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Victor and Sophie have been together for a while now—not just recently."
"I know. They started seeing each other at least half a year before the engagement—"
"Not just half a year," Ethan interrupted. "Try three years."
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth.
"They've been together for three years. That was the year you had your car accident."
The air hung heavy for a few seconds.
"After your accident, Victor went to the hospital and signed the consent for your surgery. But the very next day, he went straight to see Sophie.
"My friend said Sophie didn't even get hired at Summit Design through the normal process. Victor just arranged everything for her.
"It's been three years. Everyone at the company has known about them.
"You were the only one who didn't know," he went on.
I set my fork down on the edge of my plate.
Three years.
So all those times he came home and told me he was working late, or going on a business trip, or meeting with clients, it was always Sophie.
I sacrificed my arm for him.
And all that time, he was with another woman.
"Are you okay?" Ethan asked, watching my face.
"I'm fine."
I took a sip of my coffee. My hand was steady.
"Ethan, I'm switching up the topic for my forum speech," I said.
"To what?"
"Rebuilding from the Ruins."
*****
Three days before the forum, something happened with Horizon Group.
Their project director, Hugh Benedict, called me out of the blue, sounding a bit awkward.
"Ms. Lane, I need to let you know—Summit Design has submitted a report to our senior management, questioning your professional credentials," he said.
"What kind of credentials are they questioning?"
"They're saying you aren't registered with any certified design institute, and that your physical condition doesn't meet the requirements to practice."
I gripped the phone tightly.
"So?" I asked.
"Our legal team wants to review the winning bid again. The contract signing is on hold."
After hanging up, I just sat there at my desk, not moving.
Ethan walked in, took one look at me, and knew something was up.
I told him what happened.
Ethan's expression darkened.
"Physical condition doesn't meet the requirements to practice? What kind of bullshit discrimination is that?"
"He's just nitpicking the registration part," I said, keeping my cool. "I was never registered with any official design firm. I used to be under Summit Design, but after the accident, Victor had my registration revoked."
"When did he do that?"
"I don't know. Most likely right after my accident."
Ethan paced back and forth.
"Why don't you just re-register now?"
"There's no time. Even if I started today, the process would take at least two months."
I opened my laptop and checked my status in the registration system.
Sure enough, my professional qualification had been revoked three years ago.
The system said I withdrew myself.
But I never applied for that.
Victor was the one who did it behind my back. He had all my ID info.
He'd cut off my path back to this industry three years ago.
He never planned to let me get back on my feet.
"So what now?" Ethan asked, standing behind me.
I shut the page.
"I'm still going to the forum," I said.
"But—" Ethan started.
"I want everyone to see my work, to see what I'm capable of. Professional qualification is just paperwork—what really matters is my ability.
"Victor wants me gone, but I'm going to make sure everyone sees me."