Chapter 120
Emily stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, her nails digging deep into her palms.
"Director Johnson, the board has voted," her assistant said cautiously, handing her the documents. "Effective today, you'll be transferred to the subsidiary."
The sunlight outside was blinding, yet she only felt a chilling cold seep through her bones.
Three months ago, she had been the youngest executive in the company. Everyone had whispered that she was the undeniable successor to the CEO position.
"Why?" Her voice came out hoarse.
The assistant hesitated. "It... was Mr. Stone's proposal."
Michael Stone.
The name stabbed through her heart like a blade.
She remembered last night's celebration—how he had raised his champagne glass to her with that smile. That toast hadn't been for her success. It had been her farewell.
"I see." She straightened her back, her voice eerily calm.
The moment the elevator doors closed, her eyes finally reddened.
In this game, she had never been a player—only a pawn.
The same Charles Clark who had once run through the market to buy her hair ribbons, who had picked wild berries for her under the scorching sun, who had saved every penny to gift her lipstick—now seemed like a completely different person.
"Charles, please..." Margaret Lee clung desperately to his sleeve, tears streaming down her face. "If we can't get the money, my father really will sell me to that cripple from the neighboring village..."
She wasn’t lying.
In this family, she had always been the least valued.
To gather the dowry for her eldest brother, her father was capable of anything.
"Charles..." Her voice trembled, her nails digging into his arm.
Charles’s heart ached as if pricked by needles. After all this time together, pretending there was no affection between them would be a lie.
"Daisy, I really..." He swallowed hard. "The 'Three Turns and One Sound' requires coupons—where am I supposed to get those?"
Margaret’s eyes lit up. "You could borrow from Samuel and the others!"
Samuel Bright let out a sharp laugh.
"Why should we?" He pulled Charles back. "You want your man to shoulder a decade of debt? You’ve got quite the scheme figured out."
Samuel eyed her coldly. "Why doesn’t your family borrow the money? Selling your daughter is so easy—too bad you’re not worth the price."
Margaret’s face turned deathly pale.
She had thought Charles still cared for her, and since he had earned money on this trip, his friends could help make up the difference.
Once married, she would have lived a proper life...
But she had been naive.
Charles stared at Samuel in surprise, never expecting his friend to be so blunt.
He truly didn’t have the money.
But... after all this time together...
"Marry with the original dowry or cut ties cleanly," Samuel said firmly. "No in-between."
Margaret panicked.
Her brother was counting on this money!
"Charles..." She dropped to her knees. "Treat it as a loan—I’ll pay it back, I swear..."
Charles raked his hands through his hair in anguish. "I can’t borrow that much!"
"Let’s go." Samuel tugged Charles away. "This isn’t our problem."
Behind them, Margaret’s heart-wrenching sobs echoed. Charles hesitated mid-step but ultimately followed.
"Don’t be a fool," Samuel muttered under his breath. "That’s over a thousand dollars!"
They had earned money this time, but who wasn’t barely scraping by?
Building a house, getting married—everything required money.
"I know..." Charles’s voice was bitter. Even the largest share from their third brother was barely over a thousand—and he had been injured...
"Come to my place first. We’ll visit our third brother later."