Chapter 87
Chapter 87:
With three demanding weeks behind her, Brinley’s world had been overtaken by work. Long hours and endless tasks became her rhythm.
One morning at six, just as dawn was breaking, she darted into the garage while biting into a sandwich.
The passenger seat overflowed with folders, while the back seat was buried under design plans scribbled over with dense notes—numbers, track curves, sharp calculations.
Today, she planned to go straight to the project site, determined to capture precise slope data before the workers even arrived.
Miguel glanced back from the driver’s seat and extended a thermos with both hands. His voice carried a careful note. “From Mr. Moore, for your lunch, Mrs. Moore p>
Brinley froze halfway through fastening her seatbelt, her eyes landing on the familiar thermos.
і𝘯s𝘵𝗮ո𝘵 𝘢сс𝖾𝘴𝗌 𝗈𝘯
For nearly a week now, she had been leaving at dawn and returning past midnight, without a single shared meal with Austin.
On the rare nights she came home to find him waiting in the living room, only a few clipped exchanges passed between them before they drifted off to separate rooms.
“Okay then.” She slid the thermos into the stack of documents on her lap and said evenly, “Let’s go p>
As the car eased out through the villa gates, her gaze flicked to the glowing windows of the main house in the mirror. A pang of guilt pricked her chest, but it was quickly swallowed by the surge of deadlines and calculations pressing in on her mind.
The project had reached a perilous crossroads, the blueprint already torn apart and rebuilt through ten rounds of revisions.
Government pressure bore down relentlessly, while rival firms circled like vultures, leaving Brinley no room for distraction.
When they arrived at the project site, she plunged straight into taking measurements.
Her sneakers scuffed through dust as she moved with a laser distance meter in hand, crisscrossing the barren stretch. Sweat dampened her hair until it clung to her cheeks, slick and itchy against her skin. She was so absorbed that the entire morning slipped by without her noticing.
Corbin—now officially her assistant—hurried over with a tissue, his tone threaded with concern. “Brinley, please slow down for a minute. You haven’t had any water since you arrived p>
“No worries. I’ll take a break after I get through this part,” Brinley replied, dabbing at her forehead without ever letting her focus leave the ridgeline ahead.
Her eyes narrowed as she added, “This slope is sharper than our initial survey showed. If we don’t adjust the track layout, it could become a safety hazard p>
Not until the sun reached its brutal peak—scorching the soil until heat shimmered off the ground—did she finally lead her team into the shade of the hastily erected shed.
Corbin helped uncap Brinley’s thermos, and the rich fragrance of broth and steamed egg immediately drifted into the air. Inside was a hearty soup, thick with warmth, with two smooth eggs nestled at the surface.
Corbin’s eyes brightened as he leaned closer. “Mr. Moore made this for you? It smells incredible p>
Brinley lifted the spoon and took a careful sip.
The warmth lingered on her tongue, chasing away the fatigue that had been clinging to her for days. With each mouthful, the tightness in her chest gradually eased.
Watching her eat, Corbin tore into his bread and grinned. “You two really have it good. He looks out for you in every detail p>
Brinley laughed softly, the corners of her eyes curving with amusement. “Don’t twist it into something tender. He just doesn’t want me to starve to death p>
Her words carried a teasing edge, yet she didn’t slow down, finishing every last drop until the bowl was empty.