Adam is honestly happy with where he is at.
Being Lucy's second in command is not as exhausting as it appears. The Beta woman works with the efficiency of three people, leaving him to handle the more menial tasks. He seldom works overtime and Lucy is kind enough to teach him in the areas he's lacking.
It's perfect and he's happy. So, why on Earth is Lucy training him to be her replacement?
"Do you have any questions?" she asks as she shows which part of the next meeting's agenda he needs to pay attention to.
He does, in fact, have a lot of questions, but he shakes his head to say no. There's no use in making her repeat everything. They've gone over this twice, yet the pressure of being the next head secretary hinders him from absorbing any information.
To be honest, he feels like he only got this job because he was in the same college club as Edgar Ravinia, President Lin's infamous playboy friend.
It isn't like they were members of the club at the same time either. As a college student trying to live his life to the fullest, Adam may or may not have attended almost every drinking night out he was invited to.
Edgar may or may not have also been to a lot of those parties, taking care of his juniors by bringing out his card and sending their drunk asses home in a cab. Although he does live up to his label as a flirt with his handsome face and seductive words, Adam has never seen him touch any of the younger members. There were no rumors about him as well.
There still aren't any now, but it seems that Edgar stopped going to those parties at the same time that Adam graduated.
Because Adam was busy abusing his liver, he didn't get a lot of chances to talk to the dark blue-haired Beta. Most of his memories from the older man are from lending him a lighter or their songs being queued next to each other at the karaoke room.
Imagine his surprise when he coincidentally saw Edgar on the day of his interview, wishing him luck with that signature winning smile. Next thing he knows, he's receiving a call saying he's been accepted into the Lin Finance Group.
All of that leads to this: poor Adam, three binders deep, trying to absorb as much knowledge as possible before Lucy leaves in 2 weeks.
Why is she quitting anyway?
--
Two weeks pass by in a blink.
Lucy is proud of how much Adam has grown. Transitioning to a higher position is always rough at the beginning, but she's confident that he won't cause any major mistakes as he fills her role.
She carefully puts her things in a box as the secretarial team sniffles and sobs their goodbyes. It's still in the middle of working hours so they can't make a scene. Although Lucy wants to leave quietly, these are still the people she spent at least 40 hours every week with for the past years. Of course, she will treat them to an extravagant lunch in lieu of the farewell party she promptly shut down.
Just as she's placing the succulent plant atop the stack of her belongings, Damon comes out of his office.
The secretarial staff resumes working in an instant. The click and clack of fingers on a keyboard replaces the bemoaned voices from earlier. They're acting like they weren't sniveling just moments prior. Lucy is impressed by their ability to flip emotions like a switch.
It's only Adam who can't hide the forlorn look on his face. There's still a long way to go before he perfects his poker face, but that isn't Lucy's concern anymore. She can't teach people how to take their hearts out of their sleeves, after all.
When Damon walks past her desk, Lucy is folding her desk calendar close. Even then, Damon sees the date she marked a week from now.
It's inconspicuous, a tiny little reminder written in red marker. In fact, nobody has paid any attention to it before, but Damon knows. He knows what the words 'doctor-K' means; he'll be an idiot not to.
Waiting by the elevator, he tries not to peek over his shoulder. For some reason, he feels as if something is simmering inside him.
Is it nervousness? Anticipation? Irritation? Perhaps, a mix of all three? It's another emotion he can't name.
Nonetheless, he can't deny that he's delighted at the timing when the doors open just as Lucy makes her way over. He holds the doors open for her, and with a heavy box in her arms, Lucy has no choice but to get in.
They ride in silence, their reflections staring back at them from the elevator walls. The atmosphere is so heavy that a third person won't be able to stand between the two of them. There's nothing to indicate that Lucy and Damon used to work closely together—no aura of familiarity, no friendly conversation, not even an ounce of acknowledgment from each other. They are so still and quiet that a bird may mistake them for a statue.
It isn't until they reach the 20th floor that Damon speaks. "It seems you have an appointment with the doctor," he says, his nonchalance betraying none of his feelings, "if you're not feeling well, you can request an extended insurance from HR."
Lucy's expression doesn't change, not a single twitch in her facial muscles at Damon's words. "I'm doing well. Thank you for the concern," she replies, equally as nonchalant.
They descend in silence once more.
When they're seven levels away from the ground floor, Damon speaks again. "How … how is he?" The question comes out hesitantly.
Damon doesn't know what has gotten into him, but he feels the need to ask. His inner alpha is fidgeting to know the answer. They both know whom he is asking about, even if he refuses to articulate.
Lucy doesn't go along with his feigned ignorance—doesn't play pretend with him when she says, "With all due respect, it has nothing to do with you."
Damon can't tell which is worse: her curt tone or her dismissive words.
Unused to being shoved aside like this—by his former subordinate, no less—his temper flares.
Without thinking, he says, "I don't know why you're concerning yourself with taking care of another man's child."
That—/that/ cracks Lucy's composure.
For a split second, her eyebrows furrow and her lips curl downwards. Her eyes flash a murderous glint, a bizarre sight on her usually perfect expression.
However, her face returns to its neutral appearance as soon as she says, "Of course you don't know."
The sign indicates that they're arriving on the first floor.
"I don't trust you to know how to care for someone who has never been properly loved before." The door opens. "You won't have a single clue on where to begin."
She steps forward, leaving those words behind.
Damon stands still as she walks away. He doesn't know what she means. He recognizes the words individually but not when they're arranged in that order.
Has he been insulted? Is that why it stings?