Chapter 5

Lydia Lane pov

On the twenty-third day of my resignation countdown, Nora Wells cried at Hayes Group.

The cause was an old lamp.

That lamp had been donated by a descendant of a Titanic victim. Its metal frame was charred black, marked with scars left by the shipwreck.

I had originally planned to place it in the starting display case of the Titanic Ruins Restoration, so visitors would know that our project was not a scene built out of thin air. It was a place where people had lived, longed, and waited.

Nora disliked how old it was. She said it didn’t look good in photos and told someone to replace it with a glass lighthouse.

When the workers moved it, they lost their grip. The old lamp fell to the ground, and two parts of the frame snapped.

The donor, George Shaw, rushed over. Looking at that lamp, his hands trembled. “This was left to me by my grandfather.”

Nora cried on the spot. “I only wanted the lamp to look prettier. I didn’t know it was this serious.”

When Ethan arrived, the first person he looked at was Nora.

“Were you hurt?”

Nora shook her head, her tears falling even harder. “Ethan, did Lydia Lane deliberately not tell me this lamp couldn’t be moved? She knew I had just taken over and didn’t understand anything.”

I stood off to the side, still holding the call records with the restoration specialist.

I said, “I wrote it three times on the handover form. The old lamp is for display only. Do not move it.”

Nora bit her lip. “There are so many documents. How could I possibly read every single word? You waited for me to make a mistake on purpose.”

George looked at them arguing, his face blue with anger. “If Hayes Group doesn’t respect these objects, then don’t do the project at all!”

Ethan frowned and turned to me. “Go explain it to George Shaw.”

“Explain what?”

“Say it was an oversight in your handover.”

I looked at him and suddenly lost the strength to speak.

I thought I could no longer hurt, but every time, Ethan could use the lightest tone to press me down even lower.

“I won’t go,” I said.

Ethan’s patience ran out. “Lydia Lane, when something goes wrong with a project, the person in charge should take responsibility.”

“The person in charge now is Nora Wells.”

Nora cried and took a step back. “Then I’ll just leave. I’m not worthy of being in charge.”

Ethan immediately grabbed her, his voice softening. “No one is asking you to leave.”

Then he looked at me. “You’re suspended for three days. Write an explanation for the descendants of the Titanic survivors. Once they calm down, come back and continue the handover.”

I didn’t argue.

I returned to my desk, printed out the suspension notice, and placed it together with my resignation email. The two documents lay side by side, like a joke.

Before I got off work, HR came to ask me, “Manager Lane, your resignation is still proceeding according to the thirty-day notice, right? Mr. Hayes hasn’t rejected it, so we’ll process it according to the resignation date.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

HR sighed and lowered their voice. “Have you really thought this through?”

“I have.”

When I carried my cardboard box out of the company, it was raining. There was no car at the entrance, and no one waiting for me.

My phone rang once. It was a message from Ethan Hayes.

He said, Nora was frightened today. Don’t upset her again.

I looked at it for a long time, then replied with the last private message I would send him during this period.

I said, Ethan Hayes, I hurt too.

After the message went out, there was no reply for a long time.

I put my phone back into my bag and walked into the rain.

The rain struck the ribs of my umbrella in a dense patter.

I didn’t take a Hayes Group car. Instead, I walked to the bus stop and squeezed in with ordinary people heading home from overtime.

Beside me, an older woman carried groceries. A young man lowered his head to watch short videos. No one knew I had just been suspended, and no one cared that I had loved the wrong person.

Suddenly, I felt that this kind of “not being seen” was very nice.

At least here, I didn’t have to wait for Ethan Hayes to condemn me with a single word at any moment, and I didn’t have to step aside for Nora Wells’s tears.

After I got back to the apartment, I dragged my suitcase out from under the bed.

The first things I put inside weren’t clothes, but my diploma and a few old project notebooks.

There wasn’t much I could take with me, but with those few things pressed against the bottom of the suitcase, my heart felt steady.

I stopped packing the things Ethan Hayes had given me. Every single one of them felt like a reminder that when I was wronged, I could only take the money and keep my mouth shut.

I didn’t want to bring any of that to Los Angeles.