“Hello?” I said, forcing down the urgency in my chest. “Claire, please let Mr. Reed take this call. There’s an emergency contract that needs his approval.”
A small laugh came through the phone.
“Oh? Director Shaw is still calling a man this late to talk about work?” she asked lazily. “Evan’s already asleep.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“This contract is tied to a multi-million-dollar project,” I said coldly. “Nine a.m. tomorrow is the deadline. The company cannot afford the breach penalty.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” she said, with absolutely no concern in her voice. “But work never ends, right? Health matters more. I’d hate to wake him up now. Director Shaw is so capable. I’m sure you can solve it yourself.”
Then she hung up.
I called right back.
Busy signal.
I called again.
Busy signal.
Then the system message came through.
I had been blocked.
I switched to messaging apps and sent Evan a direct message.
Mr. Reed, the Warren contract expires at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. The company cannot afford the breach penalty. Please respond immediately so the final version can be sealed.
A red exclamation mark popped up.
You are no longer on this user’s contact list.
For a second, I actually laughed.
Then I started calling everyone else.
The deputy general manager let his phone ring twice, then rejected the call. A text came in immediately after.
Maya, it’s not that I don’t want to help. But you know the situation between Evan and Claire. Calling him right now… wouldn’t really be appropriate.
The finance director picked up, voice thick and vague, clearly already trying to distance himself.
“Maya, don’t panic, don’t panic,” he said. “Evan… well… Claire is upset right now. No matter how big the contract is, surely his family situation comes first, right? Just wait until tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“After nine tomorrow,” I cut in, “we won’t be talking about a contract. We’ll be talking about how to pay a breach penalty north of one and a half million dollars.”
Silence.
Then an awkward chuckle.
“I… I’ll see what I can do.”
He did nothing.
Left with nowhere else to go, I opened the company group chat.
I typed one message and sent it to everyone.
Urgent notice to all staff: the company’s contract with Warren Group must be finalized and sealed before 9:00 a.m. tomorrow or we will face a severe financial penalty. Mr. Reed is currently unreachable. If anyone has relevant information or can assist, please respond immediately. This concerns the company’s survival.
The group stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then Evan’s profile picture appeared.
But the words that came out were unmistakably Claire’s.
Maya, I know you care about the company, but Evan really isn’t feeling well today and needs rest. It’s already very late. Sending messages like this in the group will only make everyone worry. Also, I’ve never heard Evan mention a project this big. Are you sure you weren’t fooled by someone outside the company? What if the contract is fake? If something goes wrong, how would you possibly take responsibility for a loss that large?
Four short lines.
Every one of them aimed to kill.
I had not even finished typing my reply when a gray system message appeared on the screen.
You have been removed from the group chat by the administrator.
I stared at it for two seconds.
Then I smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because anger, at a certain point, becomes so complete it starts to look like amusement.
I had made every call that could be made. Sent every message that could be sent. I had done everything my job required and more.
I shut down my computer, grabbed my bag, and took a cab home.
I did not sleep that night.
Before dawn, I was already sitting on my couch, staring at the window as the sky shifted from black to charcoal to gray.
Exhaustion moved through my nerves in waves.
Still, I could not make myself feel at peace.
Evan Reed had once been the person who gave me my chance.
I came from a nowhere town and an ordinary state school. No family background. No connections. After graduation, I was rejected by company after company. Evan was the only one who took me in. He gave me a chance. He trusted me. He promoted me all the way up.
He was indecisive sometimes. Weak when it mattered most. But until recently, I had believed he was a decent leader.
At six-thirty in the morning, my doorbell rang like it was trying to tear itself off the wall.
I pulled on my slippers and went to open it.
Evan stood outside.
Claire stood behind him.
His hair was a mess. His face looked gray. In one hand he clutched the company seal so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.
“Maya,” he said breathlessly. “The contract. How is the contract? Quick, I brought the seal. I can stamp it right now.”
He tried to push past me into the apartment.
I shifted sideways and blocked the doorway.
“Mr. Reed,” I said softly, “you’re a grown man. You should have a little sense of boundaries, shouldn’t you? Showing up at a single female subordinate’s apartment first thing in the morning with your girlfriend? Doesn’t that seem inappropriate?”
His face twisted into something uglier than embarrassment.
Claire, who had sounded so triumphant on the phone the night before, now hovered behind him with her eyes down, not daring to meet mine.
“His phone broke,” she said quickly. “That’s why. It stopped working last night. He never got your messages.”
I looked at her once.
Then I looked back at Evan.
He actually nodded, as if that explanation might save him.
I did not bother exposing the lie.
I turned around, walked into my living room, and brought back the contract.
Evan practically snatched it from my hand. He opened the seal case with trembling fingers and stamped page after page, his hands shaking hard enough to make the red marks uneven.
Claire hovered nearby, trying to smooth things over.
“Maya, please don’t be angry,” she said in a pitiful voice. “I know you’re capable. I’m just an ordinary girl. When I see Evan working so hard for the company, I feel sorry for him. I only wanted to share a little of his burden. I didn’t realize it would cause this much trouble.”
I raised my eyes to her.
“You care enough to gamble with a contract worth millions?” I asked lightly. “That’s an expensive kind of love.”
Her face drained white.
We sent the contract out immediately.
It was still thirty minutes late.
And that half hour cost us almost everything.