Chapter 7
The next day, I did not open the final Whitmore revision.
Adrian appeared at four.
He did not come into my office.
He did not argue with me.
Instead, he walked onto the design floor and called the project manager, Mara, and the core team around the model table.
"If the review set isn't issued by six, tomorrow's client meeting is canceled."
Everyone went still.
Adrian continued.
"Stop all weekend overtime. Record the delay as design leadership refusal."
I stood.
"Don't drag them into this."
He finally looked at me.
"You did."
Then he turned away.
Mara went pale.
"Is the client going to pull the project?"
Adrian stopped.
He did not answer her.
He looked at me instead.
"Ask Evelyn."
The entire design floor fell silent.
After he left, no one spoke for several seconds.
A junior designer lowered her eyes. A photograph of her newborn sat beside her monitor.
Another quietly asked the project manager whether a canceled meeting might freeze next quarter's hiring.
No one knew.
I walked into an empty conference room and closed the door.
The moment both hands touched the table, tears fell.
I wanted the project to fail.
I wanted Adrian to stand in front of the client tomorrow and admit that without me, he did not know where the design went next.
But the people outside had done nothing to me.
At 5:40, I returned to my computer.
I did not finish the design for him.
I issued only enough for the client review to continue.
I corrected the most dangerous circulation conflict, locked dimensions that could not move yet, and added one line to the cover.
[FOR CLIENT REVIEW - NOT FINAL]
At 6:23, I sent it.
Someone outside exhaled in relief.
I did not look up.
At 6:30, reception came to my desk.
"Evelyn, there's a car downstairs for you."
"I didn't call one."
"It's Richard Vale's."
I kept gathering my drawings.
"Tell him I'm not going."
She did not move.
I looked up.
"What?"
"The driver said if you refuse, Richard will make the decision about your future with the firm tonight without you."
Ten minutes later, I was inside the black car.
No one spoke to me.
Dusk was falling when we entered the Vale estate.
But the car did not stop at the house.
It curved toward the south lawn.
I slowly sat upright.
Three people were measuring the distance between the fountain and terrace.
Yesterday's florist was there.
A wedding planner stood beside the stone balustrade.
In her hands was the ivory box.
Charlotte stood beside her.
The planner opened my old layout.
"Most of the original layout can still be reused."
The car stopped.