Chapter 202

Emily Smith spent an entire week recuperating in the hospital.

The day after her discharge, she returned to work with swift determination.

Though visibly thinner after her illness, her almond-shaped eyes still shone like stars. Colleagues were surprised to see her signature warm smile intact, as if the ordeal had never happened.

Michael Thompson adjusted her workload.

"Emily, your resignation is still being processed," he said hesitantly in the office, handing her a cup of hot tea.

Her fingers traced the rim of the cup. "I've decided to stay."

His tense shoulders visibly relaxed. "Let me know if you need anything."

The next morning, the phone in the vice president's office rang abruptly.

"Miss Smith, Vice President Johnson requests your presence," Grace Lee's voice came through the receiver.

Emily stood before the expansive desk, sunlight casting a sharp shadow at her feet through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Still thinking about leaving?" William Johnson asked without looking up, his pen scratching across documents.

Her pupils constricted slightly.

"Yes," she answered firmly. "Has Vice President Johnson finally decided to let me go?"

The pen stilled.

When he lifted his gaze, it met her defiant eyes—sharp as a blade, severing the last thread between them.

"Granted."

The single word landed softly but exploded like thunder in her ears.

Her lips parted, but an invisible hand seemed to choke her voice. A dull ache spread through her chest, as if someone were slowly chiseling it open.

"...Thank you."

As she turned, she missed the sudden pallor of his face.

In the elevator lobby, Emily mechanically pressed the down button.

Ding—

The doors slid open, releasing a wave of cologne. She instinctively stepped back, only to hear a low chuckle.

"In such a hurry to leave?"

Alexander Johnson's figure blocked the light, casting a shadow over her. He pressed the door-close button. As the metal doors began to shut, Emily lunged for the emergency stop.

"Hel—"

Her cry was cut off by the elevator's descending hum.

Grace Lee shot to her feet, high heels leaving chaotic imprints on the carpet. She spun toward the vice president's office, the glass door shuddering violently as she pushed through.