At those words, Claire Sinclair instinctively flipped to the article Phoebe Lockwood had written. It was about the daily life of a young sanitation worker.

Besides "He even replied with an ’uh-huh,’ flattered all the way to his mother," there was also "a white shirt, completely stained with a bright red Shawn Lowell, bathing in the sun," and "working until one, three, or four in the morning every day, only to get up at the crack of dawn and change into his work clothes"...

’This is awful.’ The article was riddled with errors, and some parts were utterly incomprehensible.

Claire couldn’t take it anymore. She looked up and asked Hughes, "How long is this piece? I’ll see if I can find something on my computer to replace it."

Revising it now was out of the question; the only option was to replace the whole article. Thankfully, Teacher Hartwell often had her write editorials when things were slow, so she had something she could use in a pinch.

Hughes said, "850 words."

"I have one that’s perfect. I’m sending it to you now."

"Okay."

Claire sent the backup manuscript to Hughes. After he adjusted the layout, he printed out a new proof.

The two of them raced against the clock to proofread the new piece, checking it several times over before they were finally finished.

Claire made a final call to the printing press to confirm everything, and only then did her workday come to an end.

After work, Claire dragged her exhausted body downstairs, said goodbye to Hughes, and walked to the curb.

A black sedan pulled up just in time. It was the driver Adrian Quincy had personally arranged for her—a young man in his early twenties named Landon Winston.

As soon as she got in the car, Claire closed her eyes and fell asleep. By the time she woke up, they had already arrived at Evergreen Garden.

Claire murmured her thanks and opened the door to get out.

Landon Winston stopped her. "Young Madam, you worked very late today. If Young Master Quincy finds out, he’ll surely worry about you again."

Claire was so exhausted she could barely be bothered to speak. "I’m dead tired," she said. "Go tattle to him if you want." Then she got out of the car.

Landon Winston silently took out a notebook and jotted the incident down.

...

After Henry Hartwell’s departure, Claire’s life became a living hell.

Her colleagues gave her endless grief during the day, and at night, she had to work overtime until eleven or twelve. She never had a moment to spare and was so swamped she could barely think straight, almost forgetting her own name.

On the third day, a major figure suddenly arrived at the newspaper office—

—a very attractive young woman named Holly Fleur. She was on temporary transfer from the neighboring Astoria Television. She had worked at the Astoria Daily in the past before transferring to the TV station to become a news anchor.

Rumor had it that this was Henry Hartwell’s idea. He probably had a pang of conscience, knowing Claire would be bullied, so he found her some backup.

Holly Fleur had a commanding personality, exuding even more of a "boss lady" vibe than Editor-in-Chief Summers herself. The moment she walked in, her powerful aura silenced the entire room.

No one dared to speak above a whisper or even meet her gaze.

Holly Fleur strode over to Claire in her five-inch stilettos. "Claire Sinclair, starting today and until Henry gets back, I’ll be filling in for him. If you have any trouble, you can come to me. I’ll take care of it for you."

’She called Teacher Hartwell by his first name... They must be really close...’

Claire nodded, overjoyed. "Okay!"

’Heh heh, I’m saved at last.’

Holly Fleur turned around slowly, her gaze sweeping languidly across the room before finally settling on Phoebe Lockwood.

"A word of warning for certain colleagues here. Don’t come to me talking about connections or favors. The only thing you’ll be dealing with me on is work. If anyone tries to pull rank on me, let me give you a heads-up: my father is a big shot, and my mother’s maiden name is Quincy. Alright, now everyone get back to work."