"No, no, that’s not necessary." Cecelia quickly shook her head. "She’s still a little girl. It’s not good to spoil children." She smiled as she folded a tiny dress. "As long as she has clothes to wear, that’s enough."
In the end, she picked out two more outfits and two pairs of shoes for her nephew as well.
After calculating everything, she figured she’d spent almost the entire one hundred and fifty dollars she’d budgeted. Satisfied, she decided to stop shopping.
On the drive back, Damien was behind the wheel while Cecelia sat in the passenger seat, checking her phone. A notification caught her attention. The two transfers she’d sent him earlier were still pending. He hadn’t accepted either one.
She looked up. "Why haven’t you accepted the money?" Her brows furrowed. "It’s not much, but you earned it. I’ll feel guilty if you don’t take it."
She was about to continue persuading him when her phone suddenly rang.
It was her manager.
The moment she answered, an angry voice exploded through the speaker.
"Cecelia! What is wrong with you? You got into another conflict with a coworker and somehow managed to land him in jail?" His voice grew harsher with every sentence. "I’m honestly shocked. I used to think you were mature and reliable despite your age. That’s why I promoted you. But look at you now. It’s only been a few days! You’ve done nothing but cause trouble!"
The manager barely paused for breath. "The police just called to verify Kevin Lee’s identity. Thanks to you, he’s not getting out anytime soon. But that’s not my concern right now." His tone sharpened. "You still have a client meeting scheduled. Where are you? Get over there and sign that contract!"
Cecelia sat quietly through the entire scolding. Not a single word of concern. Not one question about whether she was hurt.
Only blame and criticism were hurled at her.
Even Damien’s brows furrowed slightly. Yet Cecelia didn’t seem surprised.
"Yes, sir." Her voice remained calm. "I understand. I know what needs to be done. I won’t let it happen again." She glanced out the window. "I’m already on my way. I’ll be there shortly."
"Good," the manager huffed. "And don’t screw this up, too. If you come back without that contract, you can forget about being team leader."
The call ended.
Cecelia lowered her phone. Before she could say anything, Damien said, "You’re still going?" His gaze dropped to her injured foot. "In that condition?"
She blinked. "What choice do I have? The appointment’s already scheduled. I can’t leave a client waiting."
Damien glanced at her. "I seem to remember you being quite capable of arguing with Claire Clark." His tone was cool. "So why did you back down so quickly in front of your manager?"
Cecelia looked away. "It’s not a big deal. I’m not dying. I can still walk." Then she added, "If you’re busy, just drop me off somewhere. I can take a taxi."
Damien’s gaze flicked briefly toward her mismatched bargain-bin shoes. Then away. "What time is the meeting?"
"In twenty minutes."
"Hold on."
The engine roared. The car surged forward.
They arrived at the client’s office building with only minutes to spare. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Cecelia reached for the door. She was about to tell Damien that he didn’t need to wait. Instead, he stepped out as well, then he casually offered her his arm.
"Might as well finish what I started." His expression remained impassive. "Let’s go."
With no better option, Cecelia leaned heavily against him. Walking side by side, it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was injured.
Fortunately, this was an existing client. The company had already worked with them twice before. There were no major disagreements, no difficult negotiations.
Everything proceeded smoothly.
An hour later, the contract renewal was signed. By the time they finished, it was already after two in the afternoon. Damien had spent half the day following her around. Cecelia felt obligated to thank him somehow.
"You must be hungry." She looked at him sincerely. "Let me buy you lunch. What would you like to eat?"
Damien glanced at her. A woman who bargained a pair of shoes down to one dollar wanted to treat him to lunch. The thought was strangely amusing. Not because he looked down on her. Simply because it felt unnecessary.
"The hotel provides meals. Free of charge. We might as well eat there."
Cecelia immediately gave up insisting. Free food was free food.
Back at the hotel, Ryan had already returned from the police station. Not only had he handled Kevin’s situation, but he’d also recovered Cecelia’s missing wallet.

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