No one dared tempt fate.
Vernon was convinced his days were numbered.
As he wavered between an early demise or a late one, Eddie sent the follow-up.
The culprit… was someone from their own headquarters?
Vernon was so furious he nearly coughed up blood.
By the end, he felt a fresh wave of dread.
He had to admit, Miss Selwyn had guts—she stuck around and finished the interview!
The moment Gideon wrapped up his second meeting, Vernon reported everything in full.
Sure enough, as he finished, the man who already looked like a grim reaper managed to look even more menacing.
"Firing her would be too kind," Gideon said coldly.
"She likes to stir up drama? Fine. Transfer her to Sales."
The Prescott Group's Sales Department was infamous—a pressure cooker that had chewed up and spat out more than a few careers.
Every single staff member in there worked themselves to the bone. If you didn't drop dead from exhaustion, you kept working until you wished you would.
The managers were masters of manipulation, dangling empty promises and stringing their teams along like overworked dogs—miserable, but unable to quit.
It was practically an urban legend: if you ever lost the will to live, just join Prescott's Sales Department.
There, you'd experience firsthand what it meant to wish for death over another workday.
Vernon silently sent his condolences to the doomed troublemaker.
Godspeed, lady.
…
Celestine left Seabay in the early evening.
She politely declined Eddie's offer for dinner.
On her drive back to the apartment, she passed a nearby grocery store.
She pulled in to restock on some fresh ingredients.
As she walked toward the entrance, Celestine glanced at her phone.
A new, unread message from Mr. Shield caught her by surprise.
Their last conversation had ended when he told her to pick up some scar cream.
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