Chapter 391 Trust At Crossroads

    Chapter 391 Trust At Crossroads

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    Quinn sat in silence. Maybe it was time–past time–to sort through the knot in her heart. She had never truly let Julius go, notpletely.

    Laura brightened. “Two days from now, Whitethorn Group hosts its annual g. Come with me–use the evening to think things through.”

    “The annual g?” Quinn blinked, caught off guard.

    “Exactly. After the three–way bid, they chose our firm as the supplier. The invitation arrived this morning with the news.” Laura’s smile turned knowing. “That gives you a perfect window to decide.”

    Laura liked Han well enough, but Quinn seemed to view him only as a brother–in–arms. With Julius, the shadows and sparks told an entirely different story.

    “All right–I’ll go with you that night,” Quinn said atst.

    Laura pped once. “Shall we head to the styling salon together–pick out your dress and jewelry?”

    “Let’s focus on the gown. I already have the perfect jewelry,” Quinn replied.

    “Done!”

    Back in her room, Quinn opened a velvet case and drew out her mother’s ruby ne.

    The pendant was Arlene’s keepsake–discovered on her tiny neck the day her adoptive parents found her.

    Fortunately, Arlene had been bundled in thick winter clothes; otherwise, no child could have defended such a treasure.

    Along the delicate chain, almost invisible, the single word Gurney was engraved. At only three, Arlene remembered nothing but the nickname Yara, so her new parents renamed her Arlene Gurney.

    They raised her as their own.

    Arlene and Montague grew up side by side,ter bing husband and wife. The ne witnessed every chapter of her life–until the year she traded iit /ioverseas for medicine and food, saving fifty orphans.

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    Chapter 391 Trust At Crossroads

    Only then did the ne leave her hands.

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    Now it rested in Quinn’s palm once more, and for a heartbeat, she could almost see her mother’s gentle smile reflected in the ruby’s glow.

    iIf /iiMom /iiwere /iistill /iihere/ii, /iihow /iiwould /iishe /iijudge /iiJulius /iiWhitethorn/i?

    And when I’m ithis /iilost/i, iwhat /iiadvice /iiwould /iishe /iiwhisper /ito iguide /iime/ii? /i

    She drew a steadying breath, meeting her mother’s concerned gaze. “Mom, I think I really do have feelings for Julius Whitethorn. It’s just… I’m not sure I can trust myself yet.”

    Fragility coiled beneath the confession. Confidence once shattered was hard to reforge, and she dreaded tumbling into another failure before she had truly learned to stand.

    Laura looked up from a stack of quarterly reports to find Harvey standing in her doorway, shoulders tight with nervous resolve.

    Weeks earlier, she had told him that if decent work proved elusive, herpany would always

    have room.

    Yet he had waited–days folding into a restless week–before summoning the courage to appear today.

    Harvey cleared his throat, palms rubbing together in silent appeal. “Is the offer mentioned… still good? Could I work here? I… I’m short on money.”

    you

    “Of course,” Laura answered, warmth threading through every syble. “My secretary will give you a tour. Get a feel for the departments, then we’ll decide where you fit best.”

    Relief crashed over him like sudden rain on drought–stricken earth. Gratitude filled his dark eyes until they gleamed, and his answering nod tried to say everything words could not.

    Laura folded her hands upon the desk. “You said the modeling gig was to cover hospital bills at home. How much do you still need?”

    “Two hundred thousand,” he whispered, as though the number itself might scold him for daring to speak it aloud.

    “Text me your bank details,” she said. “I’ll wire it this afternoon.”

    Harvey’s head jerked up. “You’ll send the full two hundred thousand? Aren’t you worried I might never pay it back?”

    Laura’s smile was gentle, almost teasing. “If you could have avoided asking, you would have.

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    Chapter 391 Trust At Crossroads

    That tells me all I need to know.”

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    After all, she mused, he hade only now–dayste–because pride had fought him every inch of the way.

    Color crept across his checks, contrition blooming in a visible blush.

    “When life knots your hands,” Laura said softly, “someone has to loosen the rope. You once pulled me free, Harvey. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

    His eyes brimmed. “Thank you… Thank you.” The words trembled, wet and sincere.

    Laura handed him a simple onboarding form, then dispatched a secretary to guide him through the office. As soon as the door closed, she phoned ounting and ordered a transfer of three hundred thousand to the ount he had written down.

    She added an extra one hundred thousand, hedging against emergencies pride would never let him mention.

    Quinn stepped into the office just in time to catch the tail end of the call. “Who’s getting the money, Laura?”

    “Harvey–friend, lifesaver, soon–to–be colleague,” Laura replied. “Now,e on. We still have gowns to choose for the Whitethorn Group annual g.”

    Quinn nodded eagerly, already picturing rivers of silk and crystal glittering beneath showroom lights.

    She had not expected, however, that the boutique would host a far tenser reunion: her brother and Serena were already there.

    Across the showroom, Serena clung ito /iLeander’s arm, imperiously instructing the attendants ito /ibring out the most expensive gown in stock.