Charlie didn’t waste any time. “It’s good you’ve separated. Now focus on yourself.”

“As for grad school, thanks to your previous results in the U.N2 project and my recommendation to waive your preliminary exams, you just need to prepare the paperwork. When the time comes, go straight to the interview. Treat it as a formality—think of it as an experience.”

Elodie was taken aback.

But Charlie didn’t give her a chance to ask questions-he hung up without another word.

Typical Charlie. Ornery as ever, the old man.

Still, this opportunity for grad school was an unexpected gift. If she’d followed the usual process, she’d have to wait another year.

But then again-

Elodie thought of Sylvie. She seemed to have similar plans for grad school. As for the details, Elodie didn’t know and didn’t care to dwell on it. Other people’s plans were their business.

She just wanted to do the things she’d set her mind to.

At the very least-

No regrets.

Alexander had insisted she take five days off. The forced break did her some good; by Tuesday, she felt recharged and was back at work.

At ten in the morning, Galen appeared at her office door. “Ms. Thorne, the team from Neural Intelligence is here for the disaster relief project kickoff.”

Elodie nodded. “Mr. Sterling and the others aren’t back yet?”

“Not yet. I checked-they’ll be about half an hour.”

Without hesitation, Elodie gathered her things and headed for the conference room.

As she entered, she spotted Sylvie sitting on the couch, reviewing documents. She looked every bit the poised, polished executive-elegant, self-assured, the very image of a high-flying professional. When Sylvie heard footsteps and saw it was Elodie, her expression cooled by several degrees, though she tried to hide it.

Elodie ignored whatever mood Sylvie was in, walked straight to the front row, and took her seat with her own files.

Sylvie didn’t even glance her way. She directed her attention to Galen, who followed behind. “Mr. Sterling still isn’t back?”

Galen, unsure what she was getting at, replied politely, “President Fielding, would you mind waiting a little longer? The meeting’s scheduled for ten-thirty.”

Sylvie didn’t look up, flipping through her documents with a faintly dismissive air. “So, Mr. Sterling and Ms. Mercer didn’t bother to leave anyone in charge at VistaLink? For a project this critical, shouldn’t someone capable be here? If you leave it to someone with health issues-someone liable to faint at any moment- you risk delays, or worse, mishandling important matters.”

Her meaning was clear: she had doubts about Elodie’s fitness for the job after that incident at dinner, when Elodie had fainted and ended up in the ER.

Was it really a health problem-or just theatrics?

Well, Sylvie never had Elodie’s taste for drama.

Galen’s face reddened. He glanced at Elodie, obviously understanding who Sylvie was criticizing.

Elodie met Sylvie’s stare, unruffled. She knew exactly what Sylvie was getting at -questioning her ability to handle the project after fainting at dinner. Was it really about her health, or was there something else—like Jarrod carrying her out— sticking in Sylvie’s mind?

“If you have concerns, President Fielding, you’re welcome to send someone else,” Elodie said, her tone calm yet cutting. “VistaLink doesn’t appreciate people who can’t separate personal feelings from business.”

Sylvie’s brows drew together in a rare display of annoyance. Her usual polite smile vanished. “VistaLink is a big company-yet somehow, your personnel decisions seem shortsighted. This contract is with the defense department. Leaving it in the hands of a fringe player-isn’t that a bit reckless? Neural Intelligence doesn’t intend to be the fall guy if you mess this up.”

That “Ms. Thorne” title-a position bought and paid for, as far as Sylvie was concerned. Did Elodie really think she could run the show?

Galen looked ready to explode.

Before he could say anything, Elodie waved him off with a slow, deliberate gesture.

Galen understood, biting back his anger and leaving the room.

Elodie was done indulging Sylvie’s passive-aggressive games.

Her eyes turned icy, her words sharp as a scalpel. “Considering Jarrod funded your company while you were still married, if you’re so worried about losses, I could help put your mind at ease. I could take you to court, reclaim the company, and make sure you’re no longer the boss. That way, you’d have nothing left to worry about, wouldn’t you, President Fielding?”