“I understand. I’ll take care of it.”
Daniel ended the call. Amelia, still holding her phone, stared at it in disbelief. That was it? Was he really not going to stand up for his precious Porcelain Doll and avenge her with a slap or two?
Just then, Violet’s phone rang. The housekeeper had just returned with a medical ice pack, but Violet waved her away. If the mark on her face faded too soon, how could she use it as leverage against Amelia in front of Daniel?
She saw Daniel’s name on the screen and instantly switched to a soft, fragile tone as she answered, “Daniel…”
“Have I not told you to leave her alone?”
Violet froze, stunned. This wasn’t at all how she’d imagined the conversation would go.
Daniel’s voice was cold, not a hint of concern for her. “However you spread those rumors, you’ll undo it the same way. If you want your leg to heal properly, you’d better stop provoking Amelia.”
Violet’s lips parted, but no words came out. After a long pause, she managed to protest, “I didn’t spread any rumors. People say what they want—I can’t control—”
“Violet.” Daniel cut her off, voice edged with impatience. “You know what you’ve done. I’ve told you before: don’t play games around me.”
…
That evening, Amelia finally managed to reach Ella and arranged to meet her at a café near campus.
Ella seemed to know what was coming. She greeted Amelia with a bright smile. “Really, Amelia, I’m fine. I’ve thought it over these past few days. Quitting grad school isn’t just about this mess—there are other reasons too. Starting work early isn’t so bad; I’ll be able to help my family out sooner.”
A tap on her car window startled her. Her mentor, Oliver Miller, was waiting outside. “I was just about to call you,” he said. “Any decisions yet? Only seven days left—our professor has been on my case every day.”
Amelia pushed open the car door, stepping out into the biting wind. Her hair whipped across her face and she brushed it aside, looking at Oliver. “Be honest, has the professor been saying I’m hopeless?”
Oliver chuckled. “He might have a sharp tongue, but he really does care. If it were anyone else, he’d have given up long ago. You’re the only one he keeps talking about, saving that spot just for you.”
He paused. “But even so, there’s only a week left. They need to confirm the team and start prepping—there’s a whole lot of paperwork and confidentiality agreements to deal with.”
Amelia gazed into the heavy night, finally understanding her mentor’s mix of frustration and hope. After a long silence, she answered softly, “Alright. I’ll give you my final decision by next week at the latest.”
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