Chapter 3

Mr. Davies replied almost instantly.

A single question mark.

"?"

I responded, "Just left my last company, feeling light as a feather."

Silence for about a minute.

Then, the phone rang directly.

"Harper, what's going on? You quit?"

Mr. Davies's voice was surprised, with a hint of seriousness.

"Yes, just finalized it today."

I picked up a spicy chip, savoring it, but kept my tone professionally calm.

"Why so sudden? What about that multi-million dollar project of yours, the follow-up procedures and technical maintenance? I only trust you."

Mr. Davies was a client I'd been working with for six months.

He was notoriously particular, but incredibly fair.

A true tech purist, he hated corporate games and all their twists and turns.

I had secured his business not through wining and dining, but through genuine professional competence and sincerity.

"Mr. Davies, don't worry. Even though I've left, I've arranged all the project materials and follow-up contacts, and I've left detailed handover documents. It won't affect your project schedule."

That was my professional standard.

Even if I was leaving, I'd ensure a smooth handover.

"I'm not talking about that!" Mr. Davies's voice was a little agitated. "My cooperation with you was based on *you*, on your technical solutions! I don't trust anyone else!"

"That Sharon manager at your company, I already didn't like her when we had dinner last time. She knew nothing about the business, only how to suck up and propose toasts. Annoying as hell."

I chuckled.

"Can't help it, she's the boss's relative."

On the other end of the phone, Mr. Davies scoffed, full of disdain.

"I figured. A nepotism baby."

"Harper, tell me the truth, did she make your life hell?"

I didn't answer directly, changing the subject instead.

"Mr. Davies, let's not dwell on that. Maybe we'll have a chance to work together again in the future."

The phone line went silent.

So long that I thought he was going to hang up.

"Harper."

Mr. Davies's voice returned, now exceptionally steady.

"I recognize your ability. But honestly, you alone aren't enough. In this industry, connections, a team, resources – none of them are expendable."

My heart sank.

Everything he said was true.

"However," he continued, changing his tone, "there might be an opportunity."

My heart skipped a beat.

"One of my subsidiary companies has a very important project going up for public bidding at the end of the month. The scale is much larger than your current project, and the technical requirements are more complex."

"This will be a pure battle of strength, and all the big companies looking to participate will be there. I can't give you any promises, and I won't open any backdoors for you."

He paused, his voice carrying a testing tone:

"If you have what it takes, to put together a team in such a short amount of time."

"And come up with a solution that will convince me, and all the judges."

"And win the bidding…"

"Then, between us, we'll have a foundation to discuss further cooperation."

"If you can't do it, then this call today never happened. You'll be on your own."

I hung up the phone and looked at the unfinished spicy noodle soup in my bowl, suddenly finding it tasteless.

Mr. Davies wasn't feeding me empty promises.

He was offering me a path I could see, but it was a tightrope suspended over a bottomless chasm.

Win, and the world is mine.

Lose, and I'm utterly ruined.

Ripping open that bag of spicy chips had kicked off the biggest gamble of my professional career.

Just then, my phone rang again.

An unknown number.

I answered it.

"Hello, is this Harper?"

A shrill, arrogant female voice.

"It is. Who's this?"

"I'm Mr. Sterling's wife. Sharon's aunt."

Oh, so the real boss had arrived.

"Can I help you?" My tone remained flat.

"Harper, I don't care how you do it, but you need to go to the company right now and apologize to Sharon!"

Her voice was sharp and cutting, a command that brooked no argument.

"Otherwise, I'll make sure you can't survive in this industry!"

"Oh?"

I let out a soft laugh, a lazy, mocking sound escaping my nose.

"Mrs. Sterling, you've got some nerve."

"Who do you think you are? The queen of this industry?"