The Ex-Wife They Begged To Keep - Chapter 96: Chapter 96

Serena followed Spencer into the design department.
He paused in front of the team and gestured toward her. "This is Serena, our new designer. She'll be joining the team starting today. Let's make her feel welcome."
A polite round of applause echoed across the room.
"You'll be assigned to Graham's group," Spencer said, nodding toward a man standing at his desk, tall, sharp-featured, with black-rimmed glasses and an unreadable expression. "Graham, Serena will be working with you."
Graham adjusted his glasses and gave her a quick, measured glance. "Welcome," he said, his tone neutral.
Serena nodded politely. "Thank you."
No sooner had Spencer left than Graham placed a file in front of her with a quiet thud. "Design draft. I need it done by the end of the day."
Serena opened it, flipping through the pages. It wasn't simple, but it was within reach. "Okay. I'll give it my best," she replied.
Graham looked at her again, this time with a hint of disbelief.
"'Your best' won't cut it," he said evenly. He lifted his chin slightly, his voice cool but firm. "In my team, we deliver. No excuses."
He let the silence settle before continuing, "If it's not done by today, don't bother showing up tomorrow."
Serena's fingertips rested lightly on the edge of the file. She met his gaze, unflinching. "Understood."
Back in Keith's office, Spencer returned with an update. "Mr. Brannon, Ms. Gray is all set."
Keith looked up from his papers. "And the background check?"
Spencer pulled a few papers from a folder and handed them over. "It's all there. Ms. Gray was raised in an orphanage."
Keith's brow furrowed slightly. "An orphanage?" He hadn't expected her background to be so harsh. She must have endured far more than she ever let on.
"Yes," Spencer replied, "the Summer Orphanage in Velra."
He added, "After returning from Glonia, Ms. Gray went straight to the hospital to visit Tiana Brown, the director who raised her."
Keith flipped through the pages. Among them were Serena's birth certificate and a profile on the orphanage.
He paused as Spencer continued, "She's been sending money to the hospital every month. It's covered Tiana's medical bills for years."
Keith said nothing. He turned to a photograph tucked between the papers, an elderly woman lay frail in a hospital bed, her face sallow, her frame reduced to skin and bone. Her cheekbones jutted sharply, eyes sunken deep in their sockets.
His fingers tightened slightly on the page.
'Serena... is connected to her?' he thought.
The worn face in the photo stirred something, an echo of a memory long buried, yet try as he might, he couldn't quite bring it into focus.
Serena picked up the documents and returned to her workstation. The moment Graham stepped out to fetch some water, several colleagues gathered around her, speaking in hushed but eager tones.
"Need a hand? Graham's notoriously tough. His standards are no joke."
"Yeah, the tasks he assigns are rarely simple. If you get stuck, just ask. We've all been through it."
"Seriously, we've all survived his 'boot camp."
"Thank you," Serena said with a sincere smile. "I'd like to give it a try on my own first. But if I hit a wall, I'll definitely come to you. Hope that's alright?"
"Of course, anytime. Just don't be shy."
"Exactly. We've all needed help starting out."
"You've got this. I've got a good feeling about you."
Serena nodded in appreciation. Though their offers were genuine, she was determined to earn Graham's respect on her own terms.
She turned her full attention to the screen. Bit by bit, the design took form, sleek, balanced, and precise.
Time slipped by unnoticed. One by one, her coworkers wrapped up their day and began packing up.
Just then, Graham stepped out of his office and walked straight to her desk. "Still working on it?"
"I've finished," Serena replied, handing over the draft.
Graham took the file and flipped through it without much thought at first. But as he turned the pages, his expression shifted, curiosity giving way to surprise.
At last, he looked up. "You did this?"
Serena nodded. "I did."
Graham took a moment, scanning the pages again. The design was strong, original, detailed, and polished. "Impressive. Very impressive!"
He raised his voice slightly, addressing the room. "Take a look at Serena's draft when you can. There's a lot to learn from here."
Then, turning toward one corner of the office, he added, "Ashley, you might want to think about why someone new is delivering better work than you."
The room fell silent for a beat. Then came the murmurs.
"Serena, this is amazing."
"Seriously, it's brilliant."
"I can't believe you pulled this off. It's so good!"
Several colleagues gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Ashley Moore, however, stood motionless, her expression frozen.
Serena offered a modest smile. "Thank you. I just did my best."
Ashley stepped forward abruptly, facing Graham. "I think Serena's design is copied," she said coolly. "The style's almost identical to another designer's work."
Graham's eyes narrowed slightly. He looked back at the draft. "Is that so?"
"I didn't copy anyone," Serena said, her voice steady.
Ashley drew a sheet from her folder and dropped it on Graham's desk.
"This belongs to another designer," she said, pointing. "Take a look. Isn't it almost the same?"
Graham picked up the second draft and began comparing the two. His brow furrowed. There were, undeniably, several key similarities in structure and detail.
Whispers rippled through the room.
"They do look a bit alike..."
"Did she actually copy it?"
"She doesn't seem like that kind of person..."
Serena recognized the drawing instantly. It was her own submission from a previous design competition.
"That's my work," she said quietly.
Ashley let out a laugh, as if she'd just heard a joke. "Oh please. And how exactly do you plan to prove that?
"When I first saw this piece, I was genuinely stunned by its composition and the line work. I could never match its creativity and technique."
She tilted her head, voice dripping with condescension. "How could someone like you possibly create something of this level? Or was it a case of... too much 'inspiration'?"