Chapter 7 - The Boardroom SurpriseBack on the forty-first floor, the atmosphere was far more celebratory.
Claire had finished her phone call with her grandmother, wiping away the last traces of tears before stepping back into the executive suite. As she re-entered the boardroom, she found Arthur Hartwell and his father, Thomas, standing by the panoramic window, reviewing a printed copy of her employment contract.
"She’s got grit, Arthur," Thomas was saying, tapping the paper with a thick, calloused finger. "Reminds me of your mother when we first started out in that damp warehouse on Wabash Avenue. People who’ve never had to fight for anything think the world is made of glass. They don't realize it's made of stone."
"She’s more than just grit, Dad. Her designs are genuinely brilliant," Arthur replied, looking up as Claire approached. He smiled warmly. "Claire. We were just discussing your official start date."
"Whenever you need me, Mr. Hartwell," Claire said, still feeling a slight surreal dizziness. "I can start Monday. Tomorrow, even."
"Take the rest of the week to get your affairs in order," Arthur instructed kindly. "Moving from Berwyn to the city, settling your personal matters—we want you focused when you step into the director's office. Oh, and regarding the ten-thousand-dollar hardship bonus?"
He slid a sleek black Hartwell Corporate Amex card across the table toward her.
"That’s already active. Use it for whatever you need immediately. Car service, settling debts, whatever takes the weight off your shoulders."
Claire looked down at the black card. Her fingers hovered over it for a second before she picked it up. It felt impossibly heavy.
"Thank you," Claire whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I... I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
"You don't need to repay us, child," Thomas Hartwell said, turning to face her fully. A gentle, grandfatherly smile softened the rugged lines of his weathered face. "You just need to do what you did this morning. Keep your eyes open, and never look down when someone is falling."
Arthur checked his gold wristwatch. "Well, I have a finance committee meeting in five minutes. But before that, there is one more thing."
He pressed a button on the intercom on the boardroom wall.
"Vance? Send her in."
The heavy oak doors opened, and a young woman stepped into the room. She was wearing a sharp, professional navy blazer, carrying a stack of onboarding documents and a leather-bound planner.
Claire blinked in surprise. It was Maya, one of the applicants who had been standing next to her in the lobby earlier that morning—the one who had whispered 'That’s Vanessa Cross' before everything went sideways.
Maya looked terrified, clutching the papers to her chest like a shield. She looked at Arthur, then at Thomas, and finally her eyes landed on Claire.
"Claire?!" Maya gasped, her jaw dropping. "What are you... why are you in the boardroom?"
"Maya," Arthur said calmly, stepping forward. "When Ms. Bennett was brought up here, my security team reviewed the lobby security footage. We saw you standing right beside her."
Maya’s face turned pale. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the worst. "Mr. Hartwell, I swear I didn't say anything! I didn't create a scene! Please don't blacklist me—I've been trying to get an interview here for two years—"
"Relax, Ms. Lin," Arthur interrupted gently, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "We saw that you didn't participate in Vanessa's mistreatment of my father. We also saw your resume, which was clipped to Ms. Bennett’s portfolio when she dropped it."
Maya opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. "My... my resume?"
"You have a master's degree in sustainable supply chain logistics from Northwestern," Arthur noted, walking over to hand her a folder. "And according to Ms. Bennett, you two spent an hour in the lobby sharing notes on eco-friendly material sourcing before the doors opened."
Maya turned her gaze toward Claire, who broke into a wide, bright smile and nodded vigorously.
"We need a top-tier logistics coordinator for the new sustainable division," Arthur continued, crossing his arms. "How would you like to be Claire's second-in-command, starting Monday, at ninety-five thousand a year?"
Maya’s knees buckled slightly. She grabbed the edge of the nearest chair to steady herself.
May you like
"Is... is this a prank?" Maya whispered, looking around the room as if expecting hidden cameras to pop out. "Did I accidentally walk into a hidden-camera show?"
"This is Hartwell Consumer Group, Ms. Lin," Thomas Hartwell chuckled, leaning heavily on his cane. "We don't do pranks. We do business."
