Chapter 2Silent Strings

In the conference room, Art spoke first.

“Abby, what’s the progress on the Starlight project?”

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with Mr. Evans from Starlight tonight. There are still a few concession points to finalize.”

The Starlight project was one I had pursued for two months before finally securing a meeting with Mr. Evans. Essentially, once Mr. Evans gave his nod, the contract could be signed immediately. Serena had initially been in charge of the project, but it had made no headway in the three months it was in her hands. Art had then transferred it to me. Her face had been livid at the time; I never found out how Art compensated her afterwards.

As I mentally sorted through these convoluted relationships, Art’s voice cut in.

“Serena and I will accompany you to the dinner tonight.”

I stared at him, stunned. Him accompanying me, I could understand; he was my superior, after all. But bringing Serena along? What did that mean? Was she trying to snatch my project? Now, of all times? A wave of confusion washed over me.

Mr. Evans had a known preference in the industry: he loved to drink, always wanting to have a good time. However, his wife strictly controlled his alcohol intake, making it notoriously difficult to schedule non-essential business dinners with him.

The high-end private room was filled with seven or eight people, the atmosphere harmonious. Art was the first to raise his glass.

“Mr. Evans, it’s truly our honor to have you here tonight.”

“Abby here has an excellent tolerance for alcohol. At our company, she’s known for being able to drink anyone under the table.”

“With her accompanying you tonight, I’m sure you’ll have a thoroughly enjoyable time.”

My fingers, gripping the wine glass, turned white at the knuckles. I had told him just the day before that I was pregnant. It hadn’t even registered with him; he showed no regard for the child I carried, his child.

Well, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning on keeping this baby anyway, otherwise I wouldn’t have scheduled this meeting with Mr. Evans. But the wine tonight was particularly foul. The combination of morning sickness and the alcohol’s bite made me feel waves of nausea, threatening to overwhelm me.

Mr. Evans seemed to notice my discomfort. “Is Ms. Graham unwell?”

I swallowed down the rising bile, about to speak, when Serena cut me off.

“This little bit of wine is nothing for Ms. Graham.”

“Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Graham?”

“How about I have a drink with Mr. Evans instead?”

She moved to raise her glass, but Art’s hand covered it.

“Mr. Evans, you might not know this, but Serena is allergic to alcohol.”

“So, I’ll drink this one for her.”

He raised his glass and downed it in one go, then displayed the empty glass to everyone.

I had already chugged over a dozen glasses, and he hadn’t offered to take a single one for me. Yet the moment Serena even thought about raising her glass, he intervened.

Indeed, love and indifference were starkly visible. I silently swallowed the bitterness in my heart.

Art’s voice continued.

“Mr. Evans, let Serena handle the subsequent details for our company. Ms. Graham here is getting married soon and might not have the time to oversee the project anymore.”

My head snapped up, my gaze locking onto Art. So that was it. They had truly come tonight for the project in my hands.

Mr. Evans’s eyes widened in surprise, then he offered an understanding smile. “Is that so? Well, congratulations, Ms. Graham. Life’s big events should certainly take precedence.”

As the client, it didn’t really matter which account manager they signed the contract with, as long as the service was high-quality, efficient, and the costs were minimized.

A look of triumph flashed across Serena’s face, her smile broad and brazen. My insides, however, churned with turmoil. Art’s flippant words had just undone months of my hard work. I had done the legwork, and the fruit was almost ripe, only to have someone else steal it.

This was beyond enduring. So, I spoke up, my voice firm.

“Mr. Evans, our boss is just joking!”

“It’s just a wedding; it can definitely be postponed. Work still needs to come first.”

“I prefer to finish what I start.”

“I’ll continue to handle the follow-up work. There’s no need to trouble Serena.”

Sure enough, Art’s face darkened, his brow furrowing as he glared at me. I met his gaze squarely, unflinching.

Though this little spat had erupted, for Mr. Evans, it was all just a show.