Chapter 38: Chapter 38: The HR Department’s Retaliation

Lila’s POV

He smiled, his eyes gentle. “If those clothes aren’t suitable, then don’t wear them. I’ll have my personal team of tailors come over. They can custom-make you some comfortable, appropriate office attire based on your preferences and measurements—clothes without any obvious branding. The fabric and tailoring will be the best of the best, but they’ll look very understated. What do you think?”

’An infinite tenderness flowed through my heart.’ “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Jasper. But I just remembered, I do have something from yesterday’s shopping that I can wear to the office.”

I hurried back to the walk-in closet and rummaged through my things. I finally settled on a relatively simple, camel-colored knit dress in the style of Max Mara. It had no flashy logo, but the tailoring was impeccable, making me look both gentle and sharp.

When I came back out after changing, a flash of appreciation crossed Jasper’s eyes. “That looks beautiful. It suits you perfectly.”

I arrived at AR Architecture Design Company right at the peak of the morning rush. Clutching my bag, I walked quickly into the office area in my low-heeled lambskin flats. Even though I had changed into an understated outfit, after the tenderness of last night and this morning, my complexion was glowing. My skin had a healthy radiance, and my eyes were brighter than usual.

I had just sat down and was organizing the blueprints on my desk when the sound of high heels stopped beside my workstation.

“Lila Bennett.”

I looked up and saw Vivian Lin. She was wearing a royal blue power suit, her makeup was flawless, and she had that formulaic smile plastered on her face. Her eyes, however, were sharp as a knife.

“Vivian, good morning,” I said, standing up to greet her politely.

“I heard,” she began, her eyes sweeping over me. Her gaze lingered for a moment on my clearly expensive knit dress, and the smile on her lips deepened, carrying a hint of barely perceptible mockery.

Then, raising her voice, she asked, “that you and the Hale Group’s heiress went on a ’shopping spree’ at the ultra-luxe The Grand Pavilion yesterday?”

The office fell silent in an instant. All eyes turned to me like spotlights. There was surprise, suspicion, and, more than anything, the gossipy stares of people waiting for a show.

Vivian crossed her arms, a smile playing on her lips that looked concerned but was actually razor-sharp. “Lila, I know designers need good taste, but isn’t it a bit much to be chasing that kind of spending level right after starting your career? Or perhaps… you have some ’connections’ we don’t know about?”

She deliberately emphasized the word “connections,” the implication obvious. The whispers around me instantly grew louder, and the stares felt like needles piercing my skin. I knew that once this started, no matter how I explained myself, I’d be labeled a “gold digger” or someone who “got in through the back door.” People would stop trusting my professional abilities.

My palms began to sweat and my throat tightened. Just as I was about to defend myself, a steady voice came from behind the crowd.

“Director Vivian, are your words meant to question the professional standards of my department?”

The crowd parted to make way for David Miller. He was holding a stack of files, his usual good-natured expression replaced by a rare seriousness and righteousness.

Vivian’s expression faltered for a second, but she quickly composed herself. “David, what do you mean by that? As the HR Director, I’m simply conducting a necessary review. After all, the design department values a down-to-earth approach.”

“A review?” David scoffed. He walked over to stand beside me and held up the files in his hand. “Then why don’t we focus on professional ability? A while ago, on the high-end residential project for the Goodrich Group, I was exhausted from caring for my sick wife and made a mistake with some key data. It led to the client issuing a letter of accountability, and the project was nearly halted.”

He opened the file and showed it to the surrounding colleagues, his tone firm. “It was Lila who pulled all-nighters to rush adjustments to the structural design and save this project. You’re all staring at what she’s wearing, but I only care about what she’s done. She didn’t rely on any ’connections.’ She relied on her own professional skill to single-handedly hammer this project back on track.”

David scanned the room, his gaze like a torch. “Director Vivian, as the head of HR, if you can only see an employee’s clothes but not their contributions, then that is the greatest dereliction of your duty to AR!”

The crowd was completely silent. Some people lowered their heads to look through Lila’s project records, while others quietly deleted the mocking messages they had just sent in the group chat. At AR, design drawings and project results were the ultimate credentials.

Vivian’s face was pale. She tried to speak again. “The Goodrich Group project, she just—”

“That’s enough!” David cut her off. “If you think a designer’s clothes are more important than her proposals, then I suggest you go work for a fashion magazine and stop wasting everyone’s time here.”

After speaking, he turned to me, his tone instantly softening. “Lila, don’t pay any attention to that nonsense. By the way, the client wants to confirm a few more details on the follow-up drawings. Come with me to the conference room in a bit to go over them.”

I looked at the file he handed me, my eyes growing warm. I nodded and took it, my voice a little hoarse. “Okay. Thank you.”

Vivian stood frozen, her lips moving but ultimately not a single word came out. The crowd slowly dispersed, but this time, no one looked at me with questioning eyes.

—

The conference room door closed, shutting out the probing and guilty gazes from outside. In the air was just me, David, and the stack of files that had just shielded me from the vicious rumors.

I took a deep breath and turned to face him, my voice carrying a faint, almost imperceptible tremor from the emotional turmoil. “David, just now… thank you so, so much. If you hadn’t stepped in to help, I honestly don’t know how I would have handled that.”

He waved his hand dismissively. The stern righteousness he’d shown in front of everyone faded, replaced by a deep exhaustion and shame. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he braced his hands on the conference table, head bowed, staring at the hands that had once stolen for personal gain.

“Lila, don’t thank me,” he said, his voice low and full of bitterness. “What I said out there was the truth, but I didn’t speak up just to help you.”

’My heart sank a little. I thought he had some other hidden trouble.’

David looked up, his eyes filled with a complex gratitude. “I’m the one who should be thanking you, and I mean it. Not just for solving the project’s issues, but for that day… when I stole your proposal. Thank you… for pleading for me in front of that ’big shot.’”

“And thank you for your generosity,” David continued, seeing my expression. “The very next day, my wife was transferred to another hospital.”

He paused, his eyes turning a little red. “She was moved to the best private hospital downtown, with a top-tier medical team. And… it was all free. The doctors said that if she hadn’t been transferred so promptly and put on the new equipment, my wife might not have made it through the month.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. ’That “tyrant” everyone in his circle considers cold and ruthless… he let David off the hook and even solved his most pressing problem, all because I said a few words on his behalf?’

’But why… why didn’t he tell me any of this?’

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