Marina's design was also a seal—about the size of a sovereign's signet. It could serve as a real stamp, but just as well be a decorative piece for a desk.
The only difference was in the ornamentation: she had chosen two dragons coiling around a pearl, while Niamh's concept featured camels and motifs from the Silk Road, inspired by the ancient trade routes.
"Director Lawson, what do you think?" Marina handed over the finished product to Director Lawson. It was already completed and polished.
Like Niamh's, it was sculpted from jade, but its quality was several grades below the top-tier, icy green stone Niamh had requested.
As a diplomatic gift, it wasn't unacceptable—it just wasn't perfect. Not in any way.
Director Lawson found himself in a bind. Niamh's design was missing the right materials; without them, even the best idea was just words on paper.
"I'll drive over there now," Niamh suddenly announced, spinning on her heel.
"To where?" Jonathan had just walked into the conference room. He nearly collided with Niamh as she rushed past, looking utterly frantic.
"I can still make it to the factory in Silverhaven if I leave now," she said.
"Have you seen how hard it's raining out there?" Jonathan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Of course she had. "I'm going anyway," Niamh replied without hesitation.
She met Jonathan's gaze, her determination clear. Jonathan shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"You really don't want to use Marina's design, do you?" His tone made it sound as though Niamh was letting personal feelings get in the way, but when she opened her mouth to argue, she realized it would just be a waste of time.
She didn't have a minute to spare.
"I was always planning to go in person. You need someone who knows jade to pick the right piece," Niamh explained briefly. She tossed a quick, "Call me if you need anything," to the others, then skirted around Jonathan and strode out of the room.
Jonathan followed her into the hallway. "Let Prescott drive you, at least!" he called after her.
Niamh turned at the sound of his voice, just as Jonathan held up his own car keys, his face as unreadable as ever.
"The roads are slick. It's safer if Prescott's behind the wheel."
She looked at him, unsure if this was genuine concern or just a lack of faith in her driving.
"I appreciate it," Niamh said, shaking her head, "but I'm a better driver than Prescott."
With that, she walked off without another glance.
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