Chapter 202

Annie's POV

I stretched my arms above my head,feeling the satisfying pull in my muscles after hours of concentration.

My illustrations for the children's book were nearly complete-just a few more hours tomorrow and I'd be finished.

After that unexpected but wonderful morning with Howard, I'd managed to immerse myself completely in my work. The progress I'd made today was remarkable, perhaps fueled by the lingering contentment from our intimate moments together.

I tidied up my drawing materials, carefully arranging my brushes and closing my paint sets. The quiet of the house wrapped around me like a comfortable blanket. Lucy was away with her grandparents for the weekend, giving Howard and me this rare, peaceful time alone.

Just as I was about to head downstairs, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and raised an eyebrow in surprise at the name displayed: Mark Burrows-my former editor at the publishing house. Why would he be calling me now, after all this time?

I answered casually,"Hello?"

While waiting for Mark to respond, I opened the group chat with my former colleagues and quickly typed:*"Mark Burrows is suddenly calling me. Does anyone know what's going on?"*

The responses came in rapid succession:

*"What else could it be?"*

*"Since he drove you out of the publishing house,he's managed to offend every other talented illustrator and pushed away the best editors."*

*"The only people left are yes-men. The publishing house is going downhill fast, almost bankrupt..."*

*"He's contacting illustrators he drove away one by one,trying to convince them to come back."*

I couldn't help but smile as I replied: *"Has anyone gone back?"*

The answers were unanimously negative:

*"Of course not!"*

*"Any freelance work out there is better than working under him. Why would anyone go back?"*

*"Only a fool would return to such a toxic environment."*

As my former colleagues continued their lively discussion, Mark finally spoke on the phone: "Annie, how have you been lately?"

His false cordiality almost made me laugh out loud. Then a thought occurred to me-why not let him talk and see what he actually wants?

"Getting by," I deliberately made my voice sound slightly weary,"Managing to survive."

Mark immediately asked with apparent concern, "Have you found a new job?"

"No," I lied, curious to see where he was going with this, "I've been looking since the divorce, but it hasn't been easy."

"Ah," his voice suddenly filled with artificial sympathy, "I figured as much.

I screenshotthis exchange and sent it to the group chat, immediately receiving replies:

*"The old fox is starting his performance!"*

*"I bet he's about to pretend to be kind and offer you an 'opportunity'."*

Mark continued, "I've been thinking about you. It must be difficult after the divorce, especially with a child..."

My mind drifted back to when I was pregnant with Brian. I had just moved to New York after marrying Philip, who rarely showed concern for my pregnancy, always claiming he was too busy with work.When I needed money for prenatal check-ups and was financially strapped, I had asked Mark to advance payment for illustrations I was about to complete.He not only refused but also reprimanded me.

"I remember when you were pregnant and asked me for an advance on your illustration fee," Mark's voice interrupted my memories, his tone carrying a hint of condescension, "The company's situation really didn't allow for it at the time."

"Yes," my voice was calm but with a touch of sarcasm, "So I had to figure out how to pay the hospital myself."

I shared this with the group chat too, immediately receiving a flurry of angry emojis and responses:

*"He has the nerve to bring that up!"*

*"You had already completed illustrations for three books, and he wouldn't

even give you a small advance!"*

Mark cleared his throat awkwardly, "That's all in the past. Annie, I'm actually calling today to tell you there's a position available at the publishing house. Considering our past working relationship, I wanted to ask if you might be interested in coming back?"

I almost laughed out loud. So that was his agenda.

"Oh?" I feigned surprise, "What kind of position?"

"Still doing children's book illustrations," Mark's tone became enthusiastic,"

Readers really like your style."

I continued to play along. "What about the compensation?"

"About that." his voice suddenly turned cautious,"Since you previously left us, your salary upon return might not match what it was before. We would calculate it based on when you first started with us."

A wave of anger surged through me, but I kept it in check. I shared his words with the group chat again, and my colleagues immediately erupted:

*"What the hell! He wants you to come back for an intern's salary?"*

*"Classic Mark move-push people out, then try to bring them back at a lower price!"*

*"Don't accept, Annie! This is blatant exploitation!"*

Reading these responses, I couldn't help but smile slightly. Mark continued his lecture:

"Annie, you need to understand that divorced women, especially those with children, have a hard time finding work. Me offering you this

opportunity is already an act of great kindness."

I could feel the condescension in his tone, as if he were bestowing charity.The attitude made my stomach turn.

"You know, the current job market isn't friendly to those who've left the workforce," he continued, "Even if you find work, it's usually the most basic positions with minimal pay. I'm willing to let you take charge of important projects right away, which, considering our history,is very special treatment."

I gave a noncommittal "Hmm," letting him continue.

"If you're smart, you'll seize this opportunity," Mark concluded with an air of someone who believed they'd closed a deal.

I shared this last part of our conversation with the group too, and immediately someone replied:

*"Reject him! Tell him how well you're doing now!"*

*"Let him know you're thriving without him!"*

I smiled, deciding it was time to end this farce.

"Mark, I have'a question," my voice suddenly became confident and relaxed,"What kind of company do you think Howard Technologies is?"

"Howard Technologies?" he sounded confused, "That's one of New York's top tech companies. Why are you suddenly asking about that?"

"Because I work there now," I said simply, enjoying the sudden silence on the other end.

"You... what?" Mark's voice rose by several octaves, "You work at Howard

Technologies?"

"Yes, I'm in charge of their children's education department," I answered calmly, "Tve been wworking there for some time now."

"Impossible!" Mark's voice was filled with disbelief, "Howard Technologies?Are you sure it's *that* Howard Technologies? Howard Thompson's company?"

I could almost picture his shocked expression, which gave me a sense of satisfaction.

"Yes,that Howard Technologies."

There was a long silence on the other end, and Icould hear Mark's rapid breathing.

"This... how is this possible?" his voice mixed surprise with a hint of jealousy,"Their hiring standards are extremely high..."

"Perhaps Howard Technologies thrives precisely because they don't impose arbitrary limitations in their hiring process like you do," I responded calmly,but each word carried a subtle edge.

Mark seemed to finally realize his position, and his tone became defensive:"Even if you're there now, so what? Large companies lay people off al the time,you could be fired soon. When that happens..."

"Even if Howard Technologies no longer needs me, I won't return to your publishing house," my stance was firm, "As you said, opportunities are always available for talented individuals."

"You-" Mark seemed about to say something harsh but ultimately controlled himself, his voice turning cold, "Suit yourself. Do you really

think the publishing house will collapse without your little illustrations?"

I knew his pride was hurt, but this reaction only confirmed I'd made the right choice.

"Well then, I wish your publishing house continued success. Goodbye,Mark." I said calmly before hanging up.

I shared the final exchange with the group, immediately receiving a stream of celebration emojis and "well done" responses. This small victory made me smile.

Life could indeed be so wonderfully different.

Then, there was a gentle knock at the studio door. I looked up to see Howard standing there, his tall frame outlined against the doorway.

"Dinner's ready," he said softly, "I made your favorite."