Chapter 2

The next morning, Carter surprisingly didn't go into the office.

He picked up the camera I had left on the table.

"The lens is jammed. Let's go get it fixed."

That camera had been with me for seven years.

After I graduated and booked my very first wedding gig, Carter had saved up three months of his salary to buy it for me.

That night, carrying my gear bag, he waited outside the venue with me until dawn.

When I snapped the final shot, he pressed a warm coffee into my hands.

With a bright grin, he told me, "Sienna, go capture all the beauty in the world. I'll always have your back."

I didn't turn him down and went along to the repair shop.

The technician took the lens apart and frowned.

"Moisture got inside. Has this been sitting in a humid environment lately?"

It hit me instantly—Summer loved placing damp towels right next to where I stored my camera gear.

Doing it once or twice wouldn't cause this kind of damage.

It took constant, prolonged exposure.

I glanced at Carter, but he avoided my gaze.

All he said was, "Fix whatever needs fixing. Cost doesn't matter."

Leaving the repair shop, I looked at him.

"How many times has Summer actually been inside our place?"

Carter’s face hardened.

"Sienna, stop digging into this."

"I already told you, it's a misunderstanding. There's nothing between me and Summer."

I stared at him. "Can you say no to her, just once, for my sake?"

Carter went dead silent.

The wind on the street felt biting cold.

He tried to reach out to zip up my coat, but I shoved his hand away.

"Carter, we're over."

Carter hurried after me, opening his mouth as if to say more.

I didn't want to hear another word.

I headed straight to the company. I owned a stake in this business; I couldn't just abandon it completely.

Summer was sitting in the conference room, crying her eyes out.

A client complaint was laid out on the table.

In the wedding gallery delivered to a client, private party photos of Summer had somehow been mixed in.

The client was demanding a full refund and threatening legal action over privacy violations.

Seeing me walk in, Summer’s tears fell even faster.

"Sienna, I was just helping you double-check the raw files yesterday. I must have dragged the wrong folder by mistake."

"I really didn't mean to."

I logged into the system backend to check the history.

The file modification timestamp showed 2:00 AM.

I had been at home at that hour.

Summer was the one with administrative access.

"This isn't the export I finalized," I stated coldly.

Summer turned pale. "Are you saying I framed you on purpose?"

Carter rushed in right then, immediately frowning and instinctively taking her side.

"Let's focus on handling the client first."

I looked up at him. "The login logs can prove exactly who did it."

"So what if they do?" Carter snapped, his patience wearing thin. "The client already filed a formal complaint, and Summer is terrified."

"Can't you show a little accountability?"

My chest tightened painfully. "What about my professional reputation?"

Carter looked at me. "You're the head of post-production. You need to apologize first."

"I'll cover the financial loss."

I froze. "I didn't do it. Why should I be the one to apologize?"

Carter lowered his voice. "Because you're the most qualified person to smooth this over."

"Summer just started taking on accounts. She can't have a stain on her record right now."

I stared at him.

It turned out he knew exactly who was at fault.

My reputation was simply more expendable—a convenient shield to take the bullet for Summer.

I shoved the complaint form back across the desk.

"I can offer the client a complimentary reshoot."

"But I will never take the blame for something I didn't do."

Summer sobbed, "Sienna, I'm so sorry, I really didn't do it on purpose."

Carter stepped right in front of her. "That's enough."

"Look at the state she's in. How much further do you plan on pushing her?"

I looked at him. "Carter, I just want her to admit her mistake. It's not the end of the world."

"She can't handle it!" he blurted out. Then, as if realizing how bad it sounded, he tried to backtrack. "You're stronger than she is."

Those words hit like a needle.

The initial prick wasn't unbearable.

The real pain came from the fact that it couldn't be pulled out.

"I'm not apologizing." With that, I turned around and walked out.

That evening, Carter came home carrying my favorite chestnut cake, along with fresh batteries he had bought for my camera bag.

"I didn't handle things well today," he admitted softly. "I know how much that camera means to you."

I looked up at him.

Carter placed an agreement on the table.

"Sign off on the client's refund settlement first."

"Cash flow is tight at the company right now. Once things settle down, I'll pay you back out of pocket."

I flipped to the final page.

Every single cent of the liability was assigned to me.

The chestnut cake sat beside the papers, piped with frosting that read:

"Sienna, please don't be mad."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Did you buy this cake just to get me to sign?"

Carter’s expression shifted. "I'm trying to clean up your mess."

"My mess? Or Summer's?"

He fell silent.

I pushed the agreement back to him.

"I'm not signing."

Carter stared at me for a long time.

Finally, he said, "Take a couple of days to cool off. You still need to deal with the client."

Once he left, I sliced the chestnut cake open.

Half went straight into the trash can.

The other half, I gave to the night guard downstairs.

Then, I opened my banking app and systematically transferred all the project earnings that rightfully belonged to me back into my personal account.

I used to not care about keeping strict tabs on money because I viewed us as a team, a family.

Now, every single penny needed to be accounted for.