Three Years Forgotten, Why Go Crazy When I Say Goodbye? novel Chapter 113

At the mention of the VP, a surge of resentment bubbled up in Clarence's chest. He had seen the new executive earlier today. She was just a green, inexperienced girl, and she dared to boss him around? She was pretty enough, though—she probably slept her way to the top.

"She's just a little girl. Nothing to worry about."

A little girl?

Hearing this, Vivienne's chest tightened, a sudden spike of anxiety hitting her. "What's her name?"

The alcohol was really hitting Clarence now, making him dizzy. He racked his brain but came up empty. He hadn't paid a lick of attention during the daytime meeting; he completely disregarded the woman.

"Think her last name started with an M or something. I forget."

Instantly, Vivienne's anxiety evaporated. She realized she was overreacting. Why on earth would she assume it was Willow?

For one, Willow didn't have the competence for such a role. And given her pathetic devotion to Julian, she'd never willingly abandon Sinclair Group. Right now, she was probably racking her brain trying to figure out a way to crawl back.

The thumping bass over the phone was giving Vivienne a headache. Unable to stand it any longer, she prepared to hang up. Right before she disconnected, she gave Clarence one last order. "Take this seriously. Once it's done, you'll be well compensated."

Clarence quickly groveled, "Don't you worry. I guarantee it's a sure thing."

The next morning, Willow arrived at the office early.

When she got to the lobby, the elevator had just gone up, so she waited for the next one. Just then, the doors to the adjacent elevator chimed open.

But that was the VIP elevator, so Willow stayed put. It was standard corporate practice to reserve a dedicated car for the top executives to ensure a premium experience. They had the same setup at Sinclair Group, so she didn't think much of it.

She was wearing a light-colored puffer jacket over a blue knit dress today, her hair half-tied up. She looked elegantly understated and refined.

Arthur was just about to say it was no trouble when a low, magnetic voice resonated from behind him. "It's not an intrusion."

It was Silas.

Both Willow and Arthur froze, neither expecting him to actually speak up.

At that point, Willow had no excuse to refuse. She stepped inside, murmured a thank you, and deliberately tucked herself into the farthest corner.

Even so, the moment she entered, Silas caught a drift of her subtle perfume. It was delicate and refined, just like the woman herself.