I Came Back, and I Quit

Chapter 4

I clocked out at 6 p.m. sharp. I'd just reached the underground parking garage when Adrian's car stopped in front of me. He lowered the window and looked at me.

"Get in."

"We're not going the same way."

"We're going to my family's house."

"Then we're definitely not going the same way."

He got out and walked around the car to stand in front of me.

"Claire, what are you avoiding?"

"Why would I be avoiding anything?"

"You have to be at the family dinner tonight."

I looked at him with a faint smile.

"I'm your executive assistant, Mr. Whitmore. What would I be doing at your family dinner?"

"My mother wants you there."

"Then please tell Mrs. Whitmore I have personal plans."

Adrian stared at me.

"What plans?"

"I plan to eat, rest, and live my own life."

His expression turned cold.

"Stop taking shots at me."

"Can't you bear to hear it, Mr. Whitmore?"

"You never used to be like this."

"You never used to care where I went after work, either."

The garage lights cast a stark white glow. He stood before me in his immaculate suit, his expression controlled. In my previous life, I'd thought his silence meant he struggled to express himself. Later, I'd learned he simply saved all his patience for Vanessa.

I got into my own car, but Adrian stepped in front of the hood. I lowered my window.

"If you're planning to stage an accident for a payout, Mr. Whitmore, sign a liability waiver first."

He didn't move.

"Vanessa will embarrass herself tonight."

"That's her problem."

"You really won't help?"

"Didn't you say manners were just for show and sincerity was what mattered, Mr. Whitmore?"

His gaze darkened. That was what he'd said about me in my previous life. When the older Whitmores praised my judgment, he'd defended Vanessa.

"Vanessa just doesn't play all those games. She's more genuine than Claire."

Later, he'd complained about her manners at a dinner and said she wasn't fit to be seen in society.

'He always has something to say, whichever way it suits him.'

I started the car.

"Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Whitmore."

He finally stepped aside. As I drove away, I saw him still standing there in the rearview mirror.

His phone rang. I couldn't tell what the caller said, but his expression changed abruptly, and he immediately drove off.