After that day, Clyde and I were like oil and water.
Even during office meetings, he'd find reasons to argue against any suggestion I made.
Rachel would usually step in to smooth things over, and only then would Clyde begrudgingly consider my ideas, if only to keep up appearances.
The office was buzzing with rumors that Rachel was on her way up.
But the real shocker came at Merritt's birthday bash. There they were, Rachel and Clyde, arm in arm, making a grand entrance. They were the picture of elegance in matching blue suits.
Rachel, usually so reserved, was suddenly the life of the party, introducing herself to everyone as the senior secretary of the Patterson Group, leaving out any other details. But the whispers had already started.
Seeing Clyde so happy, Merritt seemed to endorse this baffling turn of events.
"Rachel, you've been taking such good care of him. Thank you," Merritt toasted, raising his glass to Rachel. Before she could take a sip, Clyde snatched the glass from her hand.
"Grandpa, she's been feeling under the weather. Let me drink for her."
"Then you shouldn't drink either. You're still recovering." Merritt scolded, taking his glass and instructing a servant to bring Rachel some juice instead.
Rachel wore a polite smile throughout, quickly averting her gaze when it landed on me.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, probably from the pregnancy. I've been unable to control these bouts of nausea lately.
Warren was still finalizing my medical report, deciding when to schedule my surgery.
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