Chapter 889
The very next morning, Ivan dragged himself to Winrich’s headquarters to deliver a groveling apology.
Noreen looked entirely bewildered. “Mr. Lynwood, I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Wiping a constant stream of sweat from his forehead, Ivan desperately tried to explain. “My new wife has never worked a day in the real world. She’s all beauty and absolutely no brains. If she offended you in any way, Ms. Gilmore, I offer my deepest, most sincere apologies. Please, be the bigger person and don’t lower yourself to her level.”
“Mr. Lynwood, I assure you, I haven’t done anything to interfere with your business. As for your wife’s comments, I haven’t given them a second thought.”
If she actually wasted time stressing over every piece of trivial gossip, she never would have climbed to the top of the corporate ladder.
The higher someone climbed, the broader and more ambitious their vision became. She simply didn’t have the time to fixate on petty, high school drama.
Yet, despite his groveling apology, Ivan’s projects remained permanently dead in the water.
Boiling with resentment, all it took was one look at Wanda, his personal wrecking ball, for his fury to detonate.
In a blind rage, he slapped Wanda across the face and permanently banned her from ever socializing with the wives’ circle again.
But that was a story for another day.
The moment Ivan walked out of her office, Noreen wiped the entire incident from her mind.
She was simply too swamped.
She was so overwhelmed with work she didn’t even have time to read the latest gossip online.
After a grueling week- business trip, she had barely stepped off the
before receiving a dinner invitation from Yves Selwyn.
Since she needed to discuss some business with Yves anyway, she decided to attend.
By the time she arrived, the dinner was already in full swing, the room packed with familiar faces.
Yves was actually fishing for inside information on InnoCore. “I heard a rumor that Winrich is looking to dump all of its shares in InnoCore?”
Noreen didn’t bother dodging the question. “That’s correct.”
Everyone at the table was a seasoned corporate shark, each secretly plotting how to capitalize on the news.
Halfway through the meal, someone suddenly asked, “Hey, why isn’t Mr. Harcourt back yet? Does it really take this long to use the restroom? I was hoping to pitch a collaboration with the Harcourt Group.”
Noreen froze, her wine glass hovering inches from her lips.
The elder Mr. Harcourt had retired from attending these types of casual dinners years ago. The ‘Mr. Harcourt’ they were referring to obviously wasn’t him.
Which left only one possibility: Seth.
He was at this dinner?
Yves quickly jumped in to explain. “He said something urgent came up and had to leave early.”
“He bailed five minutes after arriving?”
“It must have been a true emergency,” Yves offered smoothly.
As he spoke, he shot Noreen a highly loaded, knowing glance.
Noreen didn’t say a word, but she understood the implication instantly.
Seth must have realized she was coming to the dinner and deliberately manufactured an excuse to escape.
After exhausting their predictions for Rivercrest City’s economic forecast for the next quarter, the table inevitably pivoted to gossip.
“I heard Ivan over at Zenith Corp just lost a dozen major projects in a row. He must
have crossed someone powerful. It’s brutal.”
“He got off easy compared to
Carman at InnoCore. That guy practically hides in the shadows now He’s a host of his former High-profile self
“Honestly, the biggest bombshell the Omniva Bank CEO’s divorce.
Word?
on the street is they’re heading to court next week Mr. Wilder is determined to sever ties for good.”
By the time the dinner finally wrapped up, it was past nine o’clock.
Noreen leaned back against the plush leather seats of her car, massaging her throbbing temples.
Yves had poured from his private vintage collection tonight; the liquor went down smooth but kicked like a mule.
Sophia Cole glanced in the rearview mirror. “Should I take you straight home?” “Drive around for a bit. I need some air to clear my head.”
She didn’t want to walk into the house reeking of alcohol and face a lecture from Rosalind Gilmore.
Sophia smoothly navigated the streets, driving aimlessly through the glowing city. Noreen drifted off to sleep, only to be jolted awake by a sudden bump in the road. Suspended in that hazy space between sleep and sobriety, her mind was a blur. Yet, her vision was razor-sharp.
Out the window, looming in the darkness, was the skeletal frame of the abandoned construction
project the same one that had been
rotting there for five years.
It stood as a pitch-black eyesore.
It still looked so jarringly out of place against the glittering skyline.
The light turned green, the car accelerated, and the fog in Noreen’s mind slowly began to lift.
The alcohol had mostly burned out of her system by now.