Chapter 5

Sophia Bennett POV

Friday, at the G7 summit venue.

Under the spotlight, Vanessa wore a custom business suit and flawless makeup, looking like a dazzling star as she sat inside the main interpreter booth.

As for me, I was placed in the backup booth in the darkest corner of the venue, where not even the lights reached.

The summit officially began.

For the first ten minutes of polite greetings, Vanessa barely managed to get through. But as the meeting deepened and began involving a large number of obscure macroeconomics terms and complex long sentences, Vanessa’s breathing grew rushed, and her voice became halting.

“Regarding… regarding under the quantitative easing policy… that…”

The voice from the main interpreter booth paused for a full five seconds.

Inside the venue, representatives from various countries frowned one after another, taking off their headsets and whispering to each other.

Ethan Whitmore sat in the VIP seats in the front row, and his face darkened as well.

At that critical moment, I closed my eyes in the backup booth, took a deep breath, and pressed the forced cut-in button.

“Regarding the spillover effects of quantitative easing policies on emerging markets...”

A cool, steady, flawless, and authentic voice instantly cut into the channel, perfectly bridging the earlier gap.

The commotion inside the venue calmed down.

For the next two hours, Vanessa was reduced completely to a decoration.

She sat in the main booth with a deathly pale face, not even daring to touch the microphone.

As for me, inside the dark backup booth, my brain ran at high speed as I translated every word from the speakers with absolute precision.

The meeting ended successfully, and thunderous applause broke out across the room.

Representatives from various countries gave thumbs-up toward the main interpreter booth, praising the outstanding performance of this “young interpreter.”

Vanessa walked out of the interpreter booth with Ethan Whitmore supporting her, and facing the cameras flashing from the media, she lowered her head shyly. “Thank you, everyone. This is what I should have done.”

Ethan gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and said to the cameras, “Vanessa has always been excellent. I’m proud of her.”

The door of the backup booth was pushed open, and I walked out with a pale face.

The high-intensity simultaneous interpretation had drained all my energy, and my throat was so dry and hoarse that I could barely make a sound.

I stood in the shadows and looked at the two people not far away, surrounded by flowers and applause, and my heart felt as if it had been stuffed with shattered glass, every breath bringing bloody pain.

This was the man I had loved for three years.

He had snapped my wings with his own hands, plucked off my feathers, and stuck them onto another woman.

After the crowd dispersed, Ethan Whitmore walked toward me.

He took a check from his suit pocket and handed it to me.

“You worked hard today. This is one million dollars, your pay for being the backup today.” Ethan’s tone was strictly business. “Remember, I don’t want any media to know what happened today.”

I looked at that light, weightless check and suddenly laughed.

I laughed until tears came out, and my thin shoulders shook violently.

“Ethan Whitmore, in your eyes, are my dignity and my professional beliefs only worth one million dollars?”

I did not take the check and instead looked fixedly at him.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Because I find it disgusting.”

I turned around, straightened my back, and walked out of the venue step by step.