Chapter 3

In the end, I was the one who went to apologize to the client.

I refused to let my professional name be dragged through the mud.

The next day, Carter asked me to meet him at a private lounge.

He claimed the backend logs had been verified.

The person who modified the files was indeed Summer.

Standing at the doorway of the meeting room, a slight weight lifted off my chest.

Over the past two days, I had been waiting.

Waiting for the truth, hoping Carter still had a shred of decency left.

Yet, after sliding the printed log over to me, he spoke:

"Summer broke down crying."

"Her mental state is fragile. She can't handle a client coming after her."

I raised my head. "So? What did you tell the client?"

Carter kept his voice low. "Let's wipe the logs."

"Let's just leave it at this. You already apologized anyway."

"You're handling the client's account, so just cover the settlement."

"Carter, this wasn't my fault. Why should I be the one paying for it?" I refused flatly.

He was quiet for a long moment. "You're the best person for it. Besides, she didn't do it on purpose."

A wave of coldness washed over me. "You want me to take the fall? You're asking me to take the blame for her fraud? Why on earth would I agree to that?"

Carter placed his hand over my phone. "Sienna, don't blow this out of proportion."

"She can't take the hit."

I pulled my hand back. "So that means I can?"

Carter looked at me, exhaustion etched into his eyes. "You've always been stronger than her."

I let out a faint laugh.

My eyes stung.

All these years, he praised me for being sensible, praised me for being independent, praised me for being resilient.

It wasn't out of love or pride.

It was just so he could dump every single grievance and burden onto me with a clean conscience.

I went back to the studio to grab my external hard drives.

The moment I pushed the door open, I saw a new promo banner hanging on the wall.

Summer was wearing my studio apron, holding my camera in her hands.

Beneath the image ran the caption:

"Summer Hayes, Lead Creative Director of the Carter Wedding Media Team."

I recognized that camera instantly.

There was a small scratch along the rim of the lens.

I had gotten that during my very first wedding shoot when I tripped on the venue stairs out of pure nerves.

Just yesterday, Carter and I had taken it to the shop together.

The receptionist murmured timidly, "Mr. Hayes said you were taking time off, so he let Manager Hayes borrow it for a few days."

Summer walked out from the back office, looking pale and fragile.

"Sienna, I... I didn't know this was your camera."

I held out my hand toward her. "Give it back."

She didn't move.

Carter walked down the hallway toward us. "The promotional campaign is already live. Let her use it for a couple of days."

I looked at him. "This belongs to me."

"It's just a camera," Carter frowned. "She needs to secure these accounts right now. Stop making a scene over trivial things."

I pointed straight at the wall.

"The camera is mine."

"The workstation is mine."

"Even the portfolio shots on display were taken by me."

"And now she's standing there, claiming she's the Lead Creative Director."

Tears spilled down Summer’s cheeks instantly. "I only wanted to help out..."

Carter pulled her behind him. "Don't talk to her like that."

A surge of sheer absurdity washed over me.

Over the past seven years, how many weddings had I shot for Carter? How many sleepless nights had I endured? How much pride had I swallowed, putting on a smiling face for difficult clients?

That was how this studio grew into what it was today. And with one word that Summer needed it, I was expected to hand everything over.

In the end, simply asking for my own stolen property back was framed as me bullying Summer.

I snatched my camera back.

"Starting today, I'm not taking on another company project."

Carter’s face twisted. "Are you going to throw a tantrum over this forever?"

I looked him dead in the eye, my voice devoid of warmth.

"It's not about the camera."

"It's about me finally realizing there was never a place for me here to begin with."

Back at the apartment, I packed up my hard drives, contracts, and photography equipment, shipping everything straight to my hometown up north.