Chapter 12

Yasmin took a deep breath, forcing a professional smile. She didn't want to cause trouble. "Mr. Grant, nice to—" But Caleb had already turned away. With the arrogant disregard of a powerful client, he strode past, ignoring her completely. Stunned, Yasmin muttered, "Asshole!"

The project team was still buzzing from their unexpected meeting with the Grant Group CEO. The moment Caleb and his team were out of sight, the office exploded in chatter. "Holy shit! Did you see him? Insanely handsome!" "And so young! I wonder if he's single. He's every woman's dream." "Forget it. He's partnered."

Yasmin's fingers froze on her keyboard. She listened, her breath catching. Karen Emerson, a stylish young woman with a penchant for Louis Vuitton, spoke. She lifted her chin smugly. "His partner's a wealthy heiress. They grew up together. Veronica, I think."

Veronica Whitmore? In this version, Caleb's wife didn't exist. Yasmin lowered her gaze, unsure whether to feel relief or humiliation.

"So what if he has a girlfriend?" another intern chimed in. "Rich men aren't known for loyalty. And did you see how he looked at Yasmin? She's gorgeous!"

The conversation had suddenly shifted to her. She waved dismissively. "Mr. Grant seems serious and rigid. Not my type."

"Pfft! As if you'd have a chance!" Karen rolled her eyes. "He'd never go for someone like you."

Yasmin was speechless. Well, yes, they were getting divorced. Casually, she slipped her wedding ring into her bag. No one noticed.

Half an hour later, the legal team met with Grant Group's in-house counsel. Just as they were about to begin, Caleb entered. Warren Hoffman, the legal director, jumped up. "Mr. Grant? Why are you—"

Harris stepped forward. "Mr. Grant will be sitting in on today's discussion."

No explanation was given. Yasmin was full of questions. Why was he here? This was a preliminary meeting. Was he really that free? Remembering her colleagues' gossip, she felt only irritation. She didn't want to see him. Fortunately, as an intern, she sat as far from Caleb as possible.

Caleb listened as Edward presented the project plan. He glanced at the documents, then, seemingly accidentally, spilled coffee on them.

"Mr. Grant?" Warren tensed.

Caleb, unfazed, wiped his hand. "Get me a new copy."

Warren was about to offer his own when Caleb's gaze shot to the far corner of the room. "Ms. Whitmore, may I have yours?"

Dumbfounded, Yasmin looked up. For a second, her expression clearly conveyed, "Caleb, what the hell?" She suspected it was deliberate, but had no proof. As part of the service provider's team, she couldn't openly defy a client.

"Mr. Grant, you have a great memory! I only mentioned Yasmin's name once," Edward flattered, then snapped at Yasmin, "What are you waiting for? Hand it over!"

From Edward's perspective, Yasmin was expendable. Reluctantly, she stood, smoothed her emotions, and handed over her file. His fingers brushed hers; a jolt of warmth shot up her arm. She glanced at him, but he was already looking at the documents. It was as if nothing had happened.

She returned to her seat.

"Wait," Caleb said.

"Oh, come the fuck on!" she cursed internally.

"Ms. Whitmore," Caleb said casually, tapping the document. "What does this mean?"

She saw a doodle: a face rolling its eyes, and "MYOB" in tiny print. She wanted to die. Caleb likely didn't know the abbreviation. Thinking quickly, she offered a bright, innocent smile. "It means 'manifest your own blessings.'"

Everyone was stunned. Would Caleb really need an explanation? Warren craned his neck, but Caleb moved the paper. Everyone braced themselves. But he said nothing. Instead, his gaze dropped to her left hand—where her ring should have been. It was gone. She felt his eyes on her, but he never looked directly at her. He never had feelings for her.

After the meeting, Caleb searched online for "MYOB." A moment later, his brows twitched, then he laughed.

Back at the firm, Karen pounced. "Yasmin! You know Mr. Grant, don't you?"

"No," Yasmin denied instantly.

Karen narrowed her eyes. "Then why did he ask you for the papers?"

"Probably because I'm the least important person. Even if I didn't have a copy, it wouldn't affect the project," Yasmin said innocently. "And if I knew him, Mr. Hoffman would have recognized me, right?"

The group nodded. Her explanation made sense. Satisfied, Karen smirked. "Yasmin, you've heard of Sparkle? Grant Group's jewelry brand. Their ambassador position is exclusive, but Mr. Grant gave it to his girlfriend. Drop any delusions about him."