Chapter 5

I didn't answer right away. I picked up the cup and took a sip. The tea was warm, floral, and subtly sweet.

"Chloe," Scott said, turning his phone toward me. "Take a look at this."

On the screen was a message from a contact named "Julian Vance":

Mr. Sterling, today was a complete misunderstanding. My team acted out of turn. Please don't take it to heart.

Scott had replied with a simple: K.

Julian had sent another text right after: I'd like to visit you next Tuesday to apologize in person.

Scott hadn't replied.

I stared at Julian's name on the screen.

"Your director," Scott said, taking his phone back, "tried to reach me through connections last week, begging for an investment meeting.”

“I ignored him. He thought he could use your 'family connections' to sneak his way into my house today."

He gave a dry chuckle.

"He never imagined you genuinely had no connection to me."

A long breath left my chest.

So that was it.

Julian's eagerness to join the retreat, Stacy's aggressive push—it wasn't just workplace sucking up.

Julian wanted to use me as a backdoor to get an audience with Scott Sterling.

He thought I was some secret heiress or relative of Scott's.

And it turned out my parents just ran a cheap roadside motel.

"So," I looked at Scott, "you stepped in today not just to help me, but to put him in his place."

"Help you?" Scott set his cup down. "Partly. Mostly because he annoys me. He sent over two cases of vintage scotch last week; I had my guys dump them on his porch. Yet he still keeps trying."

He stood up and walked toward the edge of the steaming pool.

"How's business at your parents' motel lately?"

"Slow," I answered honestly. "Off-season. If we fill three rooms a night, it's considered good."

"The main road is having its drainage redone this week. When they finish, I'll have them put up a new directional sign pointing straight to your parents' driveway from the highway."

I blinked in surprise. "Mr. Sterling, you really don't have to—"

"Save the politeness." He glanced back, a faint glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "The farm eggs your mother sent over were delicious."

I parted my lips, wanting to say something, but words failed me.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. Julian had created a new three-person WhatsApp chat: him, Stacy, and me.

Julian texted: Chloe, I'll let today slide for now. But remember, as an employee, your behavior represents the company.

You clearly know Scott Sterling. Next Tuesday, you're accompanying me to his estate to clear up this misunderstanding.

Staring at his text, I burst out laughing.

Julian, I typed back, I don't 'know' Mr. Sterling. I begged for a neighborly favor today, and he was polite enough to help. You want me to bring you there? On what grounds?

Didn't you just walk right into his villa? And you still claim you don't know him? Stacy snapped.

He let me in for a cup of tea because of two dozen farm eggs my mom gave him, I replied. Stacy, why don't you try sending him some eggs and see what happens?

Stacy went quiet.

Julian finally sent an ultimatum: Chloe, think carefully. Either bring your resignation letter on Monday morning, or come with me to see Mr. Sterling on Tuesday. The choice is yours.