I Married the President-Chapter 72: Do They Think She Has Three Heads and Six Arms?
As she passed by Phoebe Lockwood’s spacious and comfortable desk, she saw her leisurely reading a magazine, looking utterly relaxed.
Phoebe Lockwood intentionally met her gaze, her eyes filled with arrogance and what looked like a challenge.
Claire Sinclair couldn’t be bothered with such a bizarre person. She finished her printing and went back to turn in her work.
Just as she was about to return to her seat, someone else called out, "Claire Sinclair, help me find a file!"
At the same time, another person chimed in, "Claire Sinclair, tidy up this mess. The higher-ups are coming to inspect the office this afternoon."
The words had barely faded when yet another person yelled, "Claire Sinclair, come help me take this report to the Media Department in a minute!"
Claire raised an eyebrow. ’Do these people think I have three heads and six arms?’
She instinctively glanced at Phoebe Lockwood and saw that she was still reading her magazine.
’Big deal, she’s the governor’s daughter!’
Despite her thoughts, Claire Sinclair said nothing and quietly went about her tasks.
She silently swore an oath: ’Just pray I never get a promotion, because if I do, I’ll make life a living hell for this pack of bootlicking snobs!’
As a result, Claire Sinclair barely sat down for more than half an hour the entire morning. Most of her time was spent running errands and doing grunt work for her senior colleagues.
She finally managed to sit down for a rest and glanced at the time. Only five minutes left until the lunch break.
’Finally, salvation!’
Just as Claire was feeling a surge of relief, someone called out to her again. "Claire Sinclair, I need you to deliver something for me. It’s urgent, extremely urgent."
Hearing the words "extremely urgent," Claire didn’t dare stay seated and hurried over.
The person who had called her was named Jenny Golding, supposedly a senior reporter.
Jenny Golding pointed to a cardboard box on the floor. "This box contains something a major client of ours needs before 1 PM. Take it to this address right away. Remember, it must be delivered before one."
With that, she tore a piece of paper with a handwritten address off a notepad and gave it to Claire Sinclair.
Claire Sinclair glanced at the handwriting. Luckily, it wasn’t hard to read, and she could make out the address clearly. However, the location was very far from the office; it would take at least an hour by bus.
That meant she would have to take the subway or a taxi.
But regardless of which option she chose, she wouldn’t have time for lunch. She would only be able to eat after making the delivery.
’Are these people trying to starve me to death?’
Claire felt they were deliberately making things difficult for her. But as a new hire, she didn’t seem to have the right to refuse—not unless she wanted to quit.
’No, I can’t. If I give up halfway, I’ll really become the failure my father always said I was.’
’Besides...’
’Adrian Quincy would be so disappointed in me, wouldn’t he?’
’You have to suffer the greatest hardships to stand above the rest.’ She wasn’t going to be so easily defeated by these rotten bullies.
’You can do this, Claire Sinclair!’
Filled with a sudden fighting spirit, Claire Sinclair hoisted the box, turned, and walked out.
’Damn, this thing is heavy...’
The moment Claire Sinclair was gone, the editorial department burst into life.
"Lunchtime, lunchtime! Everyone, let’s go eat!"
"Lockwood, let’s eat!"
"Let’s go, let’s go, time for lunch..."
Soon, the office was empty.
Henry Hartwell finally emerged from the records room much later. Seeing the empty office, he chuckled to himself, "Guess no one waited for me. I’ll just eat later then..."
...
Claire Sinclair ended up taking a taxi. It was the peak of the lunchtime rush hour, and the traffic was a nightmare.
She arrived at the client’s company just in the nick of time. It turned out to be a fairly well-known mid-to-high-end international cosmetics brand called "M2L," whose ads were all over TV and the internet.
Claire Sinclair walked up to the M2L Group’s front desk and set the box on the floor. "Hello, I’m from Astoria Daily..."
