Claire's POV
Lucius's dismissive attitude only fueled my determination. From that day on, I practically lived at the office, my temporary home becoming a small corner desk surrounded by an ever-growing mountain of paper and financial files.
If hunger gnawed, I'd grab a biscuit or slurp down instant noodles. If exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, I'd collapse onto my makeshift bed—a pile of stacked coats—for a precious hour of sleep. After a few days, my body ached, and the dark circles under my eyes were a stark testament to my relentless schedule.
Early Monday morning, when Joey entered the office, she rushed over to my desk with wide, curious eyes.
"Claire, what did Mr. Watson come here for?" she asked, her voice hushed with a hint of awe.
I looked up blankly, my brain foggy from
