Chapter 2

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

I copied every single word from the technology transfer agreement onto a piece of rough paper.

I folded it into a tight little square and stuffed it under the insole of my old canvas shoes.

With every step, the paper jabbed my sole, making it ache like hell.

That pain kept me sharp and awake.

The next day, I made my way to the factory under a gray, gloomy sky.

It was like the whole city was trapped under a giant, overturned pot, pressing down on everything.

As soon as I stepped into the tech department, a sweet jasmine scent smacked me in the face.

"Oh, I told him I didn't want it, but Avery insisted on buying it for me. He said it's the latest flavor. There's only one like it in all of Redstar Engineering Works."

Right in the middle of the crowd, Isabella was showing off a glass perfume bottle.

Under the harsh lights, the bottle sparkled so brightly that it almost made my eyes hurt.

"Ms. Lane, Mr. Stone really treats you well. He even remembers to bring you something back from his trips to the city," someone said.

"Yeah, he really treats you like family," another person chimed in.

Isabella's cheeks turned red as she pretended to be annoyed, giving the speaker a little shove.

"Don't say that, Claire wouldn't like it. Avery knows it's tough for me fighting alone in the city, so he takes extra care of me," Isabella replied.

After that, she shot a sly glance at me as I walked in.

Her gaze was full of undisguised challenge.

"Oh, Claire, you're here? Why do you look so pale? Didn't get much sleep last night?" Isabella said.

She lifted the perfume bottle a bit higher, showing it off for everyone to see.

The fragrance became even stronger.

It was the exact same scent Avery had on him during the fire, when he held Isabella close.

I ignored her.

I walked over to my desk, picked up a rag, and started wiping it down.

I scrubbed the desk with extra force.

Dust swirled in the sunlight, making the air shimmer.

"Out of the way," I said, my voice icy.

I shot Lindsay Taylor a cold glare and shoved him away from my desk.

Lindsay was the department's biggest blabbermouth, always kissing up to Isabella.

She stumbled back, shot me a sour look, and raised her voice in that trademark sarcastic tone.

"Well, look who finally showed up. The queen herself, and with an attitude to match. Can't keep your man, so you take it out on the rest of us?" Lindsay sniped.

Isabella rushed over, putting on her most innocent, helpless face.

"Lindsay, that's enough. Claire's one of our key staff. She's always under a lot of stress. Let's try to be understanding," Isabella chimed in.

As she spoke, she held the perfume bottle out toward me.

"Claire, this jasmine scent is amazing. Want a spritz? It'll perk you right up," Isabella said.

I shot her a look.

Her makeup was flawless, and every inch of her face screamed smug, like she'd already won.

"Take it away," I said, ice in my voice.

I didn't even touch it.

My voice was cold enough to cut glass.

"I don't like that smell. It reminds me of those tacky hair salons after a cheap blowout."

The room went dead silent.

Isabella's smile froze, her hand stuck mid-air, perfume bottle dangling.

Lindsay gasped, about to mouth off, but I slammed the rag down on the table.

It landed with a sharp slam.

"And by the way, this is the tech department, not a theater troupe. If you want to put on a show, take a left at the door and head to the auditorium," I said, my voice icy.

I pulled out my chair and sat down, flipping open the Irisian dictionary that had been propping up my desk.

Isabella's eyes went red as she bit her lip, trying to hold back tears.

"Claire, I was just trying to be nice..."

"Really?" I said.

I uncapped my pen without even glancing at her.

"Does that mean stealing someone else's slot for training or anything else that doesn't belong to you? Yeah, that's really nice," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Isabella's expression changed instantly.

She instinctively grabbed her briefcase.

But just as quickly, she regained her composure.

The transfer agreement was still securely locked away in Avery's briefcase, completely out of reach.

She took a deep breath and put on an even more aggrieved expression.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Claire. I'm just going back to work," Isabella said.

All afternoon, the air in the tech department was thick. Everyone was on edge, barely saying a word.

Finally, the end-of-shift bell rang.

I grabbed my stuff and walked out of the factory gates.

Passing by the guardhouse, Bradley Quinn called out, "Ms. Jensen, Mr. Stone has already headed home. He said he's preparing a feast for you. Get back early."

A feast, huh?

Yeah, right, just like the same day in my last life.

He carefully prepared the final dinner for me.

I tightened my shoulder bag, fingers brushing the hard wad of paper hidden under my insole.

Since you'd set the stage, Avery, I'd stick around and watch your little show to the very end.

I pushed my bike back to the factory housing block.

The hallway was filled with the rich aroma of food.

I stood at the door, pulling out my keys.

Before I could even slide the key into the lock, a playful laugh floated out from inside.

"Avery, this dress feels so silky. I bet Claire never lets herself wear it, right?"

My hand froze in mid-air.