Niamh lifted her gaze, her eyes cool and steady.
Jonathan stood before her, radiating confidence—the kind that bordered on arrogance. He looked at her as if her elaborate schemes against him were proof that she still cared about his opinion.
She had always known Jonathan was full of himself—and, to be fair, he had the credentials to back it up. But for the first time, Niamh found his conceit more amusing than annoying.
“You give yourself way too much credit,” she said lightly, almost dismissively.
With that, she turned on her heel, heading back into the ZM boutique. Moments later, she emerged with Lana, and together they climbed into the waiting car.
Jonathan remained rooted at the shop entrance, tall and unmoving—a statue carved in stone.
Inside, Marina was still anxiously waiting for Jonathan to come and comfort her. She waited so long that Vivian was about to lock up for the night, but Jonathan never came back inside.
Finally, Marina had no choice but to go out to find him.
“Jonathan…” she called softly, rubbing her swollen, tear-stained eyes.
He didn’t react.
Marina was taken aback; she couldn’t begin to guess what thought had captured all of Jonathan’s attention.
Only when a car blasted its horn on the street did Jonathan snap out of his trance. He finally noticed Marina standing beside him.
“What are you thinking about, Jonathan?”
“…It’s nothing.”
He shook his head.
But the truth was, he’d been replaying Niamh’s parting words: “You give yourself way too much credit.” It was a line he himself had once thrown at her.
So, she really was getting back at him.
Oddly, the realization left Jonathan in unexpectedly high spirits.
Marina noticed a flicker of apology in Jonathan’s eyes and, despite everything, felt a small thrill—maybe something good could come out of this mess after all.
Sure, she’d been humiliated by Niamh: stripped of her position, her supply line cut, and even slapped in public. But if it made Jonathan feel sorry for her, maybe it was worth it.
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