The Ring I Designed, The Finger She Wore It On Chapter 10

The Ring I Designed, The Finger She Wore It On Chapter 10

On the day the North American office officially opened, I ran our first interpreter hiring session.

After a young woman finished her interpreting test, she looked at me nervously.

“Ms. Ward, what score did I get?”

I closed my notebook.

“Why does there have to be a score?”

“I’m scared I’m not good enough.”

“You conveyed the meaning accurately, and you handled the unexpected situation well. Whatever still needs work, you can keep practicing.”

She still looked uncertain.

“So… did I get the job?”

I held out an employee ID badge.

“Welcome aboard.”

She stared at it for a few seconds, then took it with a smile.

Elliot was standing in the doorway with breakfast for both of us.

“Ms. Ward, the interviewer skipped breakfast. That’s a fail.”

“How many points off?”

“None.”

He pressed a cup of hot herbal tea into my hand.

“Just remember next time.”

I smiled and took a bite of my breakfast sandwich.

Life didn’t suddenly become extraordinary just because I’d left someone behind.

I simply went back to work. I started waking up, eating, and traveling on my own schedule again.

Grant never tried to force his way back into my life.

I heard he’d sold off some of his assets to cover Crestwell’s losses, then started working his way back up from the smallest projects.

The people who used to crowd around him gradually disappeared.

Camille went to prison for white-collar crimes, and her father was prosecuted for running an illegal gambling operation.

The editor publicly apologized and was permanently expelled from the professional association.

Every so often, an anonymous package arrived for me.

Sometimes it contained missing materials from my mother’s manuscript. Other times, it held something I’d

left behind at the Calloway house.

Grant had finally learned not to force his regret on anyone else.

A year later, I went back to my old interpreting firm for its anniversary event.

It started raining as the event ended.

Someone was waiting outside beneath an umbrella.

When I got closer, I realized it was Grant.

He was much quieter than he used to be.

“I didn’t look up your travel plans.”

“Your mentor told me you’d be here.”

“What do you want?”

He handed me a document envelope.

“I’ve transferred all the shares your father left you back into your personal trust, exactly as they were.”

“They were mine to begin with.”

“I know. They always were.”

Then he held the umbrella out to me.

I didn’t take it.

Elliot pulled up at the curb and rolled down the window.

“Vivian, ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

I walked past Grant toward the car.

Behind me, I heard him say quietly,

“I’m sorry.”

I stopped, but I didn’t turn around.

“I heard you.”

Rain tapped against his umbrella.

Grant stayed where he was and didn’t follow me again.

Once I was in the car, Elliot handed me an invitation.

“There’s an industry summit in Paris next month. They want you as the keynote speaker.”

“What’s the topic?”

“Holding On to Your Self-Worth Under Pressure.”

I looked out at the rain-washed street.

“That’s too broad.”

“Then change it.”

“To what?”

I thought for a moment, then wrote one line on the back of the invitation.

[You Don’t Have to Be Perfect.]

Elliot saw it but didn’t tell me whether it was good or bad. He simply reached over and rolled up the window.

Outside, people folded their umbrellas and hurried down the sidewalk while steam curled from fresh bread in a bakery window.

This time, no one was waiting at some finish line to judge me.

And I no longer had to keep rewriting my life just to earn one person’s perfect score.