Patti Yale wanted James Mercer to go plead with her father, plotting against herself from miles away.
She never considered that if she had just tried asking, maybe there would have been a sliver of hope for her. Instead, she’d chosen a dead end on what could have been an open highway. Hawthorne was grateful for her little games back then—if it weren’t for that, and he’d married this woman in a moment of weakness, the Everhart family line would have been ruined.
Hans glanced at Hawthorne and understood that he would never fall for that woman’s tricks.
He’d once worried that Mr. Everhart was bewitched by her, that his marriage was on the rocks. Now he saw that Hawthorne hadn’t been fooled for a second.
Gwyneth had spent the entire day working at the office. Sometimes, Hawthorne would call her during the day.
But even though they worked under the same roof, their positions were so far apart that they almost never crossed paths.
Or, at least, that’s what Gwyneth thought. In reality, Hawthorne would occasionally stroll past the game development department under some pretense, just to see what she was up to—or he’d check in on her through the company’s security cameras.
Every time he saw her, she was hunched over her work, focused and industrious.
Her breaks in the lounge or trips to the coffee machine never lasted more than ten minutes—she was the picture of a model employee.
“Did you hear? Ms. Yvette’s been transferred.”
Gwyneth overheard the office gossip as she made herself a cup of coffee in the break room. It was rare for her to catch any snippets of company rumors, but this time, no one even bothered to lower their voices when she walked in. Someone actually called out to her.
“Gwyn, did you know about it?”
Of course, Gwyneth couldn’t admit to knowing anything. She just widened her eyes and played innocent.
“Oh, come on, how would Gwyn know? Wasn’t she the one Ms. Yvette sent out to roast in the sun for hours out in the suburbs?”
Someone blurted it out, and Gwyneth could only roll her eyes. News really did travel fast here. Thinking back, she realized it made sense—the person driving her that day, when Yvette tricked her into running an errand, was Yvette’s own assistant.
Yvette never bothered to hide it when she wanted to make life difficult for someone; she’d just go for it directly. Maybe she’d already started to see herself as the boss’s wife, thinking she could control the Everhart Group.
That assistant had kept her head down since then. No one wanted her around anymore, not knowing if Yvette would ever return to the main office. She’d been reassigned to some other department to do menial work, and eventually, she quit on her own.
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