Chapter 193

The night deepened as Emily Smith removed her headphones. The studio lights cast faint shadows across her face.

Her phone screen lit up with a message from Daniel Chen: "I'm downstairs."

The black sedan glided smoothly through the night. Emily gazed at the neon lights flickering outside the window, her fingers absently tracing the seatbelt.

"Have you decided?" Daniel's voice broke the silence, crisp in the enclosed space.

Emily turned from the window. "I've already submitted my resignation."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. "Do you still have the contract? Legally, they can't hold you for more than a month."

"I'll look for it." She lowered her lashes, masking her emotions.

Silence settled between them again.

As they turned the final corner, the gates of Sky Garden came into view. A flash of red caught Emily's eye—Mia Harris was hopping out of a Ferrari, waving goodbye to the driver.

Emily squinted. Under the dim streetlight, George Taylor's roguish grin was unmistakable.

"Want to grab a late-night snack at my place?" Daniel asked softly after parking.

"No, thanks." Her reply was distracted, her mind still replaying what she'd just seen.

In the elevator, Daniel's gaze lingered on her profile. Before parting, he leaned in to kiss her forehead but felt her subtle stiffness the moment their skin touched.

The elevator doors slid shut, separating them. Daniel stood motionless, watching the floor numbers change, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The moment Emily opened the door to unit 2801, the sweet scent of strawberry perfume enveloped her. Mia hummed off-key, bouncing to the foyer with a half-eaten apple.

"Darling!" Mia enveloped her in a wine-scented hug, leaving lipstick smudges on Emily's cheeks.

Laughing, Emily pushed her away. "George gave you a ride home?"

Mia's apple thudded to the floor and rolled under the coffee table. "You saw?" Her ears turned pink. "We've only had dinner twice."

"Two dinners warrant a personal chauffeur?" Emily picked up the apple and rinsed it under the tap. "Since when has George Taylor ever—"

"Shut up!" Mia shoved the wet apple into her mouth.

The next morning, Michael Thompson's office smelled of coffee. After discussing quarterly reports, Emily finally asked, "Has my resignation been approved?"

Michael adjusted his glasses. "Upper management declined."

The answer didn't surprise her. Emily stood, her nails digging into her palms. At BestTech, who else could "upper management" refer to but him?

The glass door clicked shut behind her, reflecting her tense expression.