Chapter 11
The revolving doors of the Whitmore Group’s headquarters rotated slowly as Claire Whitmore stepped inside, dressed in an elegant pearl–white skirt suit and low–heeled leather pumps.
The receptionist immediately rose to her feet, bowing respectfully. “Good morning, Miss Whitmore.”
Claire gave a slight nod and headed toward the private elevator.”
In the mirrored walls, her reflection revealed a perfectly straight posture. The timidness once worn into her by life in the Reed household was gone–replaced by the poised presence of the Whitmore heiress.
The elevator took her straight to the top floor. Beside her father’s chairman’s office, a prime corner office with a panoramic view of the city skyline was waiting for her. On the desk sat a vase of fresh white roses arranged by her mother, the air carrying a faint, clean fragrance.
“Morning.” Ethan Cole entered, carrying a cup of warm honey water and setting it gently at her side. “The project files I organized last night are on your desk. I’ve highlighted the key points in yellow–go over them, and if there’s anything unclear, just ask me.”
He had canceled three important meetings today just so he could be here early.
Seeing the faint dark circles under his eyes, Claire felt a twinge of guilt. “You don’t have to hover around me all the time. Your own company still has plenty to deal with.”
“My company isn’t as important as you.”
Éthan smiled as he opened an exquisitely wrapped breakfast box. “I know you’ve had little appetite in the mornings, so I had the housekeeper make a light seafood congee with a few refreshing side dishes.“}
Since Claire had joined Whitmore Group, Ethan had practically turned over the running of his own company to his deputy. Rain or shine, he was at the Whitmore family estate by 7:30 a.m., the passenger seat stocked with a warm breakfast and the day’s financial paper. At six in the evening, he would be waiting downstairs with a thermal container holding dinner prepared to her taste.[
Once, Claire had casually mentioned that the company’s coffee was too bitter. The very next day, a top–of–the–line coffee machine appeared in her office, accompanied by three varieties of imported fresh milk and handmade sugar syrups. Ethan even took lessons from a barista to learn latte art, delivering her a cup each noon with a foam heart on top.
During a lunch break, Claire went to the break room for water and overheard employees chatting:
“Did you hear? Mr. Cole postponed his company’s IPO just to keep Miss Whitmore company.“”
“Last time she said she liked that old pastry shop on the west side of town, and he drove three hours round trip to get them- came back with his shirt soaked through.”
“They grew up together, didn’t they? The way he looks at her it’s sickeningly sweet…”
Her hand on the water cup paused, a quiet warmth stirring in her chest. She remembered her first days back home, how the loss of her child and the collapse of her marriage had left her sleepless night after night.
When Ethan found out, he cleared his schedule and walked with her in the garden each evening, telling childhood stories until her emotions calmed. Once, she had woken from a nightmare about her daughter and sent him a message at three in the morning. Ten minutes later, she heard the doorbell–Ethan stood there with her favorite strawberry cake in hand.
It was now her third week at work.
In a senior executives‘ meeting, the atmosphere shifted. An older board member with graying hair set down his documents, his gaze assessing. “Miss Whitmore has only just returned to the company, so she may not be familiar with our overseas operations. I have several Southeast Asian renewable energy projects here–there have been significant fluctuations in the data. Why don’t we have Miss Whitmore analyze the potential risks for us?”
At his signal, an assistant handed out several thick reports, each packed with dense columns of figures that could make anyone’s head spin.”
The conference room fell silent, all eyes turning to Claire.
