His Proposal? I Tore It With His Moonlight

Chapter 2 The Revelation

The private investigator was impressively swift. Just two days later, a comprehensive report appeared in my inbox.

Yvonne Smith, 26 years old, a standout graduate from a renowned architecture school.

Her graduation project had made waves, celebrated as a once-in-a-lifetime talent. Yet, her professional journey was dishearteningly bleak.

She had spent four years stuck at a small, obscure design firm, completely off the radar.

The explanation was revealing.

After graduation, she had spurned the advances of a senior surnamed Clark from her university, who subsequently sought revenge by reporting her maliciously. Leveraging his connections, he had sabotaged her project's accolades, alienating a prominent judge and effectively getting her partially blacklisted in the industry.

A senior student surnamed Clark?

I could hardly contain my laughter.

'Yale, you truly are something else. If you can't have a woman, you'll ruin her. Is that what you call love?'

I went through her portfolio. The designs were breathtaking—bold, alive, almost wild with energy, like a fire that refused to be tamed. They reminded me of who I used to be.

How appropriate! The landmark commercial project, the Skyward project, that my company was competing for, needed that very spark.

I sent Yvonne's details to a headhunter with a brief message.

Scarlett: Contact her anonymously and do whatever it takes to bring her on board.

Once I had taken care of everything, I finally had the clarity to reflect on myself.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror looked haggard and drained. Clad in a simple white dress, her long hair cascaded gently over her shoulders, resembling a delicate and pure girl.

How long had it been since I had seen the vibrant version of myself?

I opened my closet, which was packed with nothing but shades of beige, white, and gray, the colors Yale deemed soft and serene.

All my vibrant red outfits had been long gone, purged by Yale.

But that was fine. I could always buy new ones, even more extravagant and eye-catching ones.

I slipped into a red dress I'd bought years ago. I pulled on a pair of high heels I hadn't worn in forever, and when I looked in the mirror, I finally saw the version of myself I thought I'd lost.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Yale.

I hung up without hesitation.

Moments later, he sent a w******p message, which was familiar and coaxing.

Yale: Scarlett, please don't be upset. I messed up last night. I was too harsh. I got you your favorite Oriental lilies. How about we go out for a nice dinner tonight?

I responded with a selfie, my fiery red dress shining as I flashed a bright smile.

There was a long pause on the other end. Just when I thought he might not reply, he called, his voice tight with barely contained frustration.

"Scarlett, what's going on with that outfit? Didn't I say that color is too flashy and doesn't suit you?"

"I think it suits me perfectly," I replied with a light chuckle. "At least it's better than wearing dull white."

"What?" He stumbled over his words. "Where are you? I'm coming to get you!"

"At the office." I hung up and told Harper to reschedule the afternoon meeting.

When Yale arrived downstairs at my office, convinced he was bringing a surprise, I was in the conference room, leading a project bidding meeting with dozens of team members.

He strode in holding a large bouquet of lilies, his handsome face lit up with just the right amount of affectionate smile.

The receptionists gasped in admiration.

"Ms. Stone, your boyfriend is so sweet!"

"Absolutely! He's not just good-looking, but also incredibly thoughtful, truly the perfect boyfriend!"

Yale basked in the attention as he strolled directly to the conference room door, waving at me through the glass.

My coworkers cast him envious looks, and a department manager I was friendly with quipped, "Ms. Stone, Mr. Clark even made it to the office today. Why not call it a day early?"

I brushed off the remark and pressed on with my presentation.

"For the Skyward project, our main competitor is Sawyer, who has a top-notch designer on his side. We don't have that luxury. Thus, the creativity of this proposal will dictate our future. If anyone thinks this is a joke, feel free to walk out now."

The room fell into a tense silence.

I spoke for a solid hour until the meeting wrapped up. Outside, Yale's face was as dark as a storm cloud. Without saying a word, he pulled me into the car and thrust the bouquet of Oriental lilies into my arms with force.

"Scarlett, do you really have to act like this? Couldn't you show me a bit of respect in front of your team?"

"I was focused on work."

"Is work more important than me?"

I met his gaze and suddenly found it laughable. "Yale, what do you think?"

He seemed caught off guard by my response, momentarily at a loss for words.

I tossed the bouquet onto the back seat. "I don't like Oriental lilies. Their scent is too intense and gives me a headache."

His expression shifted. "You used to adore them!"

"People evolve."

He fixed his gaze on me, as if I were a complete stranger. "What's going on with you today? Did you take something weird?"

I didn't respond, turned on the engine, and drove directly to a Mexican restaurant.

That place had been our go-to spot long before we ever got together.

"Get out of the car," I instructed.

"I don't eat spicy food," he said, frowning, his tone laced with defiance.

"Oh, right," I replied casually. "Because Yvonne can't handle spice, I guess I have to skip it too, huh?"

The atmosphere in the car became charged with tension.