The mont Mitchell stepped out of DataPulse's glass tower, he pulled out his phone and dialed Niall's number. His fingers drumd against his thigh as he waited for her to pick up.
"Veronica is working at DataPulse now?" His voice carried a note of disbelief that bordered on accusation.
Niall's response ca after a pause, asured and careful. "She is. You weren't aware of this?"
The assumption hit Mitchell like a slap. All this ti, he'd believed Veronica had simply stepped into Niall's vacant position, filling the gap left by her departure. The reality was far more complex than he'd imagined.
"I had no idea." Niall's tone carried a hint of sothing sharper now. She'd been operating under the assumption that Dario had rejected her application out of loyalty to Veronica, so misguided attempt to punish her on Veronica's behalf. Now she found herself wondering if Veronica had already severed ties with Dennis Group before making her move to DataPulse.
The revelation sent a shock through Mitchell's system. "Then what exactly did you an earlier when you ntioned personal reasons?"
"Exactly what I said. Personal matters." Niall's voice had turned crisp, dismissive. She wasn't about to elaborate on the tangled web of grievances that lay beneath the surface.
"But that ans—" Mitchell started, then caught himself. "What are you getting at?"
The pieces were rearranging themselves in his mind. His resignation hadn't been connected to Niall's situation at all. He'd been operating on completely false assumptions. The thought left him feeling exposed, foolish.
"How capable is Veronica, really?" Mitchell pressed on, needing to understand. "From what I gathered, she hasn't completed her doctoral studies yet. Her qualifications seem—"
"She doesn't have incomplete doctoral studies," Niall interrupted, her voice carrying a note of cold amusent. "She has an undergraduate degree. That's it. She never even attempted graduate school."
The words hung in the air between them. "You're serious?"
"Completely." Niall's indifference was palpable through the phone line.
The news struck Niall as both surprising and entirely predictable. Veronica abandoning Dennis Group had caught her off guard, but the way she'd done it—leveraging personal connections instead of building genuine qualifications—revealed a fundantal shortsightedness. It was the kind of move that prioritized imdiate gains over long-term growth, a decision that would likely co back to haunt her.
"What's your next move, Niall?" Mitchell's question carried genuine concern.
"I have a major racing championship approaching. My focus needs to be entirely on preparation for now. Career decisions can wait until after the competition."
"Racing..." Mitchell's voice trailed off. Sotis Niall's ability to excel across such diverse fields left him genuinely bewildered. How did soone maintain expertise in so many demanding areas simultaneously? The logistics alone seed impossible.
Yet he'd learned not to question her thods. Niall's track record spoke for itself. If she claid she could handle multiple high-stakes commitnts, experience had taught him to take her at her word.
anwhile, across the city in Dennis Group's executive suite, Cullen sat behind his mahogany desk, thodically reviewing quarterly reports. Without lifting his eyes from the docunts, he gestured toward his assistant.
"Coffee," he said simply.
"Right away, Mr. Dennis."
For Miranda, this mont represented both opportunity and terror. Making coffee for Cullen Dennis was a responsibility she'd watched Veronica handle countless tis, but executing it herself felt entirely different. She followed Veronica's detailed instructions with religious precision, asuring each component carefully before Frank carried the finished product to Cullen's office.
Cullen set aside his paperwork and reached for the ceramic cup, giving the dark liquid a perfunctory stir. As he raised it toward his lips, sothing made him pause. The aroma wasn't quite right—subtle, but unmistakably wrong.
He managed half a sip before setting the cup down with barely concealed disgust. "Have her make another one."
Frank blinked in surprise. "Of course, sir."
When Frank delivered the feedback, Miranda felt her stomach drop. "Another one? Was it too sweet? Too bitter? I followed Veronica's recipe exactly—every asurent was precise. I don't understand what went wrong."
"I'm not sure either," Frank admitted, sharing her confusion.
Determined to get it right, Miranda prepared a second cup with even greater care. But nerves had gotten the better of her by then. Cullen didn't even attempt to taste this version. One sll was enough to confirm it was wrong.
His patience finally exhausted, Cullen turned to Frank with barely controlled irritation. "What exactly is happening here?"
"This is Ms. Edison' first ti preparing your coffee personally. She's probably nervous and having trouble with the temperature control or timing."
Cullen's brow furrowed deeply. "Edison? Why is she making my coffee? Where the hell is Veronica?"
The question seed to catch Frank completely off guard. "Veronica submitted her resignation. I assud you were aware of this."
A heavy silence settled over the office. Cullen genuinely had no knowledge of Veronica's departure. The last he'd heard, Frank had been expressing frustration about her work performance, even ntioning the possibility of termination. But resignation? That was an entirely different matter.
"When exactly did she leave?" Cullen's voice had taken on a dangerous quiet.
"Last Thursday, sir."
"I see."
Cullen leaned back in his leather chair, processing this unexpected developnt. Veronica's absence was still relatively recent—just a matter of days. In his mind, this felt more like a temporary setback than a permanent departure. Surely she would recognize her mistake and return on her own terms soon enough. People like Veronica always did.
Reviews
All reviews (0)