Chapter 12: Defending Her
The sound of a glass clinking sharply against the table broke the silence. Fletcher had set his drink down abruptly.
It was hard to tell if it was intentional or
accidental.
He cast me a faint glance, took hold of the glass, tapped it on the table, and then drained it in one go. He drank decisively.
I pretended to take a sip of my juice.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
But the atmosphere had taken an awkward turn.
I couldn’t help but feel like a fool, causing a
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scene at someone’s birthday party. It was rude, no matter how I tried to justify it.
Sean, who was busy eating, didn’t sense the shift. He, ever the spectator, added fuel to the fire.
“Winston, since Charlene said it, aren’t you going to say something?”
And just like that, the mood became even more awkward.
I could have sworn I wanted to sink into the floor.
Thankfully, Winston was sharp. He raised his glass and said, “Lena, with all the praise you’ve given me, I’ll return the favor with a toast.”
His tone was playful, a smile lingering in the
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corners of his eyes as he gave me a subtle wink.
At his cue, I
fted my glass.
And just like that, the mood warmed back up.
The dinner stretched on for over an hour.
When we left the restaurant, Fletcher’s Maybach was already waiting at the curb.
Duke jumped out of the car and helped the tipsy Fletcher into the backseat.
Davina followed, but then popped her head out of the window, asking, “Charlene, do you want to join us?”
I smiled and politely declined.
Nobody willingly wanted to be the third
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- Points
wheel.
A few bucks for the subway sounded a lot better to me.
“Charlene, let Winston take you home” Sean, hearing that I was headed for the subway, reminded me, “It’s late; it’s not safe.”
I glanced at Winston, whose cheeks were flushed, and said, “It’s fine, I…”
“Come on, let’s go together,” Winston interrupted me. “The school assigned me a two–bedroom apartment near the university district. It’s on the way.”
I was momentarily unsure whether Winston was telling the truth.
It came out of nowhere.
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+5 Points
Winston seemed to sense my hesitation. Without missing a beat, he opened his briefcase and pulled out a keycard. “Believe
me now?”
I had no choice but to accompany the slightly tipsy man to the subway.
In the end, he still escorted me downstairs to my building.
I couldn’t help but reflect on my actions. during the dinner. Feeling guilty, I sincerely apologized.
Winston smiled, his eyes curving with warmth. “Lena, I actually had a really good time today. The way you are… it’s really nice.”
I was caught off guard.
“Charlene, you are the pride of our Computer
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Science department.”
Winston used the word “pride.”
It felt both foreign and familiar.
It struck me in the chest, leaving me breathless for a moment.
Once home, I sat silently by the window, reflecting on my fractured life. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
How could I, in my current state, ever be worthy of the word “pride“?
The pitch–black phone screen flickered unexpectedly.
I unlocked it and saw a friend request from Fletcher, accompanied by a question mark.
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I hesitated for a moment, then locked the screen again and walked into the bedroom.
But I accidentally overslept.
As I was rushing to the subway, Kaitlyn’s call came through.
“What’s Fletcher’s deal? Why suddenly push for a planning department? What the hell is he thinking?”
I stopped immediately and spent a couple of minutes piecing everything together.
It turns out Fletcher wanted to add a game planning department to our studio, with Davina as its manager.
As we all know, a game’s development relies on three essential departments: planning, technology, and art, with planning at the
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- GOREAN
forefront, making it crucial to the entire project.
However, the structure for Love Story was already set in stone, so bringing Davina into the mix was definitely not ideal.
“I think we need to talk to Fletcher. He’s invested money, but that doesn’t mean he gets to pull the strings.”
I paused and asked, “Has Fletcher specifically said Davina can interfere with the game’s details?”
“Not exactly…”
“Well, then let’s wait it out, I reasoned. “Davina’s just here to polish her resume. She needs a title, but as long as she doesn’t overstep, there’s no need to upset our
investor.”
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- Polits
Fletcher wouldn’t let personal feelings blur his professional judgment.
Kaitlyn took a moment before responding, “You’re right. I’ll deal with it when I get back.”
After hanging up, I hurried to the office. The moment I walked in, I saw Aria standing on a chair, taking down the sign on the office door.
The sign that read “Technology Department” was slowly being removed right before my eyes.
Just then, Davina emerged from the break room, holding a cup of coffee with a strong, enticing aroma, and greeted me with a smile.
She then added, “By the way, Charlene, I’ve created a work group chat. Add me on
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WhatsApp and I’ll add you to the group chat.”
Her tone was the same as usual, but her eyes held a slight, almost imperceptible arrogance.
I understood.
When a woman was pampered by a man like Fletcher, it was impossible not to become a little arrogant.
Joining the group chat made sense, all things considered.
I followed along with the “better safe than sorry” mentality, cooperating sincerely.
To my surprise, Fletcher was also in the group chat.
His profile picture, next to Davina’s, gave
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off the vibe of a decision–maker and his sweetheart.
Looks like his work in the investment bank wasn’t as busy as I’d imagined.
I casually closed the chat window and focused on coding, acting as if nothing had happened.
Soon, the first message popped up in the group chat, sent by Davina.
She asked me to share some code data and politely informed everyone that, moving forward, our work progress would be reported weekly instead of every two weeks.
Kaitlyn saw the message and immediately private–messaged me, asking, “Not even Mrs. Lynton yet, and she’s already giving us orders?”
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I shrugged it off lightly, “If the golden goose’s okay with it, let’s follow along. Who knows? Maybe if he sees we’re agreeable, he’ll throw in more money.”
Kaitlyn quickly sent me a thumbs–up emoji, “Been with me for over a year, and now you’re thinking big.”
I smiled, “That’s all thanks to you.”
A bit of playful banter made Davina’s small move seem insignificant.
But I never expected that, later in the afternoon, when Davina accessed the backend, she would accidentally delete a line of data.
Sean lost it. “Do you have any idea how long we spent building that? You click one button,
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and everything we did for the last month is basically gone!”
Sean wasn’t exaggerating. A tiny mistake in the code might seem trivial, but if something went wrong, the whole framework could collapse.
Davina looked guilty. “I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to see if there was anything I could help with…”
“No need!” Sean snapped. “Please, just stay out of it and be the eye candy you’re supposed to be, okay?”
That was a bit harsh.
Davina’s eyes lowered, her gaze clouded with moisture.
She was on the verge of tears.
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5 Points
I watched them argue, both red–faced and heated, and said calmly, “There’s no point in fighting. Davina, don’t let this happen again.”
Davina froze, her face flushed, and she ran
out.
I paused for a moment.
Sean, still fuming, grumbled, “We should be the ones crying, okay? If crying worked, I’d probably have drowned the whole studio by
now.”
I rubbed my temples, thinking about the team’s harmony, and called Sean to go downstairs with me.
But we couldn’t find Davina.
After leaving a message for her, I returned to
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45 Points
the office and started checking the data line by line.
Before I knew it, it was already dark.
When I finally came to my senses, I saw that Davina had sent a message in the newly created work group chat.
“Charlene, I’m useless, I’m really sorry. I know it was my mistake that caused trouble for everyone. I sincerely apologize to all of you.”
She added a downcast emoji at the end..
The message was sent two hours ago.
That was right when Sean and I had been looking for her downstairs and had just returned to the office.
How should I put it? After all, she was just
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a young girl. Anger aside, we couldn’t keep holding her mistake against her.
Just as I was about to dial Davina’s number, the studio door suddenly opened.
Fletcher walked in, his face serious. He looked at me and said, “Ms. Grande, we need to talk for a second.”
I met his indifferent gaze, momentarily at a loss for words.
I couldn’t help but recall how, not long ago, Fletcher had appeared just like this in our studio, waiting for Davina to finish work. He had found her with red eyes, and had been incredibly worried.
Now, he was defending her to this extent–he had even come to confront us personally.
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